The Thief
by TheDevilKnowsMyName
Summary: The Shire was destroyed in the year of 2786 by Orcs. The hobbits were driven from their lands, out of their homes, to wander the winding roads as they searched for a new home... And in the same year, a prophecy was told... A prophecy of something terrible... It will consume all... And in 2941, everything changes. For better or worse, is something you shall have to find out.
1. Chapter 1

**Year of 2941**

"Bilbo!" screamed a dwarf as he looked at the thief. "Come over here!" he yelled to the being as he waved him over, running up stairs as he did. The thief looked at the dwarf, watching as the man paused to stare at him, and in those eyes he saw one thing: Greed. It was there so blatantly that the thief could not deny those dark desires that the dwarf had. He could see how it twisted him, corrupted him, turned him from the person he once was.

It took a moment for him to remember that dwarf he saw before him was the same one he had traveled with, fought with and befriended. He forgot this was the man he knew before this god forsaken thing in his arms had turned him, before he had walked into this chamber of tombs. The thief shut his eyes for but a second, and saw in his mind the man who had done so many things for him. The man that had become something he thought he would never have in his entire existence.

**_You are more than that. You are family. You are..._**

So many thoughts ran through his psyche as the sounds of loud, thunderous footsteps beckoned his attention and action. With urgency, he ran as fast as he could, but the sounds of those feet were gaining on him. His hesitation and pause from before allowed the creature to move closer to him. He knew that the beast was only minutes away from him, and that he had to act. There was no time to keep running. So with little time, and an even smaller advantage over the looming form of the beast, he dove behind a stone table that had been tossed over on its side. He hid behind it as a burst of flames cascaded around him. The burglar panted, watching the flames pass over him as he felt the heat from the stone behind him.

_Be safe, Bilbo, be safe._

When the fire finally ceased, he looked back at the dwarf that stared at him, and he saw that hunger in the man. He saw the need in them, but it was no need for his own safety. It was only for the blasted stone. And that broke him inside, it twisted him. The thief had lost everything as a child, from his home, to his family, but losing another person was something he could not withstand. He would not let this dwarf lose himself. He would not let him go like that. Not him.

_**I could never think of that because of who you are. I understand you.**_

The burglar nodded towards the dwarf, with sadness in his eyes as he turned to look over the table at the dragon that glared at him. The thief took in a breath as he calmed himself, and slowly stepped out from behind the table. "Bilbo!" the dwarf called, but nothing could reach the hobbit now. Even as the dwarf yelled at him and came to his senses, it was too late. The burglar walked towards Smaug.

**_Thank you for all you have done so far. I don't think that we would have made it far without you._**

The thief glared at the dragon with resentment boiling in him. "I'm not afraid of you," he declared with a steady voice. The dragon sneered at the thief as he ruffled his wings. "Then what are you afraid of, Thief?" the burglar scoffed at the beast's question. "That's something you'll never know because you'd never be able to understand it." The fire drake watched him curiously, but quickly smiled down at the small creature.

**_I have more feelings for you than that. Far more emotions that range to places unknown. I will always cherish you._**

"It does not matter, either way, you'll perish in my flames." The Hobbit stood still as the dragon prepared to send a burst of scathing heat and unbearable warmth towards him. "No, Bilbo!" the dwarf yelled as other dwarfs tried to run towards the burglar. All of them called his name, begging him to come towards safety, to move. He listened to none of them.

_Be safe, Bilbo, be safe._

_I'm sorry; I couldn't keep my promise, but watch over him. Watch over him while I'm gone._

"Bilbo!" the burglar looked back at the dwarf as the others stopped their advance on the hobbit, pulling each other back and away as they hollered and shouted in vain. The dragon's flaming chest began to burn inside him, making his chest glow with the fire that swarmed inside. The thief felt a tear go down his face as he watched the dwarfs cry out to him, and he saw the fire engulf him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Now you know the ending of our tale, but shall I share with you the rest of the story?**

**Yes, I think I shall. For you must know the rest of the epic to understand what had come to pass to make this future occur.**

**But it is not a happy one. Not this tale of fear and destruction.**

**You will only find woes here. But stay if you will, and you may find answers to questions that have come to your mind. Indulge me, for a moment, for the sake of an elder. For I am an old one, having seen and heard many things, and one such as I likes to entertain youth with a story.**

**That's it, sit.**

**Now, where to start?**

**Ah, yes!**

**The Prophecy...**

**Year of 2876 in the Third Age**

**There lay a prophecy...**

"_One will arise,"_

**A telling of a dread...**

"_One who mourns flies,"_

**Something is coming it foretells...**

"_They'll sweep across the land,"_

**Something that we know not of...**

"_They'll serve all they can,"_

**It lurks not in the dark...**

"_Within them sleeps ire,"_

**It lurks in the daylight...**

"_Within them rests ruin,"_

**For it is not evil...**

"_Far worse than Sauron,"_

**But it is not good either...**

"_Far dangerous than Shelob,"_

**It is of its own will...**

"_More ravenous than the Uruk-hai,"_

**Holding no true allegiance...**

"_More blood thirsty than Morgoth,"_

**But it holds power...**

"_This one shall be your doom,"_

**Unimaginable power...**

"_This one shall be your tomb,"_

**It will destroy everything.**


	3. Chapter 3

There are many different individuals in Middle earth, and many different personalities within cultures. There are strong minded people, and weak minded people. There are leaders with greed and disdain or with righteousness and nobility. Then there are followers with loyalty and honesty or ones with ill intentions and selfishness.

Then there was Belladonna Took.

A hobbit from the midst of the shire, which was a place you would not expect a spirit of Belladonna Took's like to be born in. Albeit the lass had been born to the Old Took, who had, in his travels, killed Orcs and Wargs of the like, but just being a Took explained the whole mess of it. Tooks were known to be adventuress and chancy hobbits. The kind of hobbit you might see on the road traveling to the Iron hills or to Rivendell.

So it made quite a bit of sense that this hobbit lassie was a daughter of the Took line.

It also explained why this young lassie would run around on her own adventures battling Orcs like her father had done once before. It explained why she was the only one who stayed near the fire to hear the end of the courageous and dangerous story her father was telling. Even when her mother shouted for the young ones to go to bed, she would bear through her mother's wrath and sit until the story was through. It explained why the old forest was her favorite place to go and look for elves, or why she would go to enormous rocks and ask them if they were dwarfs.

It was in her blood to crave adventure.

So when that lassie came of age she did not hesitate to kiss her mother goodbye, hug her father in departure, or say farewell to her sisters and brothers. She did not even think when she walked through the shire with a pack on her back and a walking stick in her hand. The lassie did not even spare a glance towards the other hobbits who stared at her with curious and suspicious gazes. Instead she held a smile on her face and wonder in her eyes.

Belladonna had finally crossed that threshold that separated her enclosed world to a much more expanded and driven world. She went on adventures to the far off edges of Middle-earth. She traveled from Rivendell to Gondor to Lake Town and even to the Sea of Rhûn. She met all the races from elves to dwarfs to men, even the easterlings, and she could tell you a story or two about those queer encounters. Most of her stories were with the elves that she found a little bit pompous and biggity.

The lassie would tell her younger sisters and brother of these different races and gorgeous lands whenever she got the chance. But that was not continuous or very frequent since she was usually out in Middle-earth trudging through mud or in a battle of life or death with a dwarf for a piece of meat. She was rarely home. But when she was she always had a comical and hilarious story to tell others about. The other hobbits in the shire used to call her the Mad Hobbit, which the young one always laughed at.

In all the Hobbits of the shire's minds she was nothing short of troublesome and inappropriate. After all she was supposed to be a respectable and untainted hobbit that sat in her smial, and did not step beyond the border of the Shire, not even an inch.

Hobbits were simple Shirefolk that stayed inside their borders and never even thought of venturing out. They were perfectly fine with living inside the boundaries of their home, thank you very much. They thought it as a death call to even speak about going off past Bree.

And why would they not? They had everything they needed right where they needed it. They had plenty of their own food, crops to grow, and livestock to nourish off of. Water was plenty and was not a problem to cross their minds in the slightest. Their children were healthier than elves and were sure to give many of them grandchildren. Festivals were kept regularly to bring smiles to young ones and ale to older ones mouths.

So for one to leave and go off to the dangers of the world intentionally was entirely scandalize. They had no problem with stuffing their noses in their own homes and away from outside business. The big folk world was no place for a hobbit. That was just how hobbits are.

At least... that's how they were...

Things change though. Just as fall changes to winter and spring to summer the hobbits changed as well. Unfortunately it was not by the means of anything natural that changed them.

And Belladonna would remember the cause of change vividly for the harsh years to come, for it was this that shaped Middle-earth's future, and her own future...

Belladonna was outside her house, and was telling stories to her younger sister and brother about a time she had encountered a rather curious lad, who had taught her some very humorous songs, and some indecent words in other languages.

When all the sudden, and without warning, she heard the roar of an Orc. At first the other Hobbits didn't know what it was, but Belladonna knew. She knew from her travels around the world. There was an Orc coming, and where one Orc was many were to follow. This wouldn't have mattered though, the Rangers would have killed any coming on their lands, but the Rangers were gone from their lands. They had been tricked, led astray, and the hobbits were defenseless.

She told the children to go inside and tell the other members of her family. They obeyed their older sibling and ran. Belladonna then drew her sword and raced against the clock to warn the village, but it was too late. The Orcs were on them like a plague brought in by the wind. Thousands marched on their lands killing men, women and children, burning houses with babies in them. Screams of horror and utter terror filled the morning air. Women and men were dragged off into corners to be rapped and eaten. Red blood stained Orc's mouths and tainted the Warg's fur. Blood filled the fields that were once lush green with blooming flowers. The red liquid spread and spread as if corrupting the Hobbit's land, suffocating it and them with it.

The Hobbits could do nothing but watch. They could do nothing but witness the wrath of the Orcs as their people were tainted by their seed of evil. A dark cloud passed over the shire then and it seemed that never again would that light shine on them. The Orcs had no mercy. They had no reason.

It was a savagery the Hobbits had not been faced with for centuries. They tried their best to fight. Those brave few who even had weapons, or weapons of some kind, fought for their land. But they were overwhelmed by the sheer number of the Orcs and Wargs. Many were able to flee to the villages of men, mostly Bree, but an inconceivable multitude was killed by the fierceness of the Orcs and Wargs. No one was ready. Only the odd few were prepared, including Belladonna.

She helped many, going all around the village to get her kin out of the burning Shire. She saved a lot of her ilk, but so many had died as well and so many had suffered.

The rangers then came and helped them expel the creatures off their land, but it was far too late for many...

She escaped from the war of her village, but when the carnage of battle was over and she counted her family; her mother and father were no longer with them. Some of her older brothers were not there as well Isengrim, Hildigard, Isumbras, Isembold, and Hilidifons could not be found. They had died in the chaos of brutal battle never to be seen again.

And she was brought to her knees when she saw them. Some of them were burned others were not given the mercy. Instead they were ravaged and torn asunder with savagery and no amount of kindness in the like. Their eyes were stilled in death, and nothing could be seen there except dread and fright. Inside something twisted and broke in her. This would travel with her forever and ever. Never in all the years of her life would she forget those torn bodies and silenced breaths.

Her siblings wept and held onto each other for dear life. They felt the same pain as all of The Shire did.

When she saw the land, her home, destroyed and desolated by the Orcs and completely stained with their seeds. It reduced her to a crumbling mess just as it did all the other Hobbits, who cried for the dead that they would never see again. It killed what she had left in her heart and devastated her people. They were debilitated just by the sight of it.

Their home was gone, obliterated from the map, and was turned into "The land of Sorrows."

Bodies laid everywhere. Sobs could be heard over the dead and cries of injury could be picked up from the piles of ashes. Not a building stood in their once peaceful town. Many mourned for their lost ones as they fixed their injuries. Children were left motherless and fatherless, orphaned. Mothers and fathers had to see their children and babes killed in front of them. Belladonna's younger siblings were left without the parents and without the brothers they once cherished. They wept for their dead family members, clutching to each other as if they would die as well. The sight would make anyone weep with heartache.

Belladonna and her people buried much that night, and many tears fell. "The land of Sorrows" was a fitting name indeed.

The aftermath of the battle was no less merciful.

Hobbits had been changed forever. They had grown cold and no longer could you see a smile on a Hobbit's face or hear a carefree laugh. There was no land of joyfulness. Instead, all you would find with the Hobbits were a people who were changed inside and out. They had no hope left. Their love was wiped off of their faces when they saw their village burn. Their peace of mind was slapped from their thoughts when their loved ones died in front of their eyes, and they were helpless to do anything but watch.

As they traveled away from their home all you could hear were hums of sadness and melancholy. They had been changed in every way and meaning of the word. Belladonna and her remaining family were amongst these people, and she knew her kin would never go back to the way they were. They were forever changed for bad or good.

Even she was.

She did not yearn for adventure anymore. That fire had been destroyed with her home land and her dead family. Now all she wanted to do was help her people through their time of need. She wanted to be a pillar for them; she wanted to be strong for them. And from then on she couldn't be emotional or dramatic; she had to be judicious about everything. It was not just her life in her hands anymore, it was her peoples. She took their small population and held them dearly.

She needed to be their steady ground.

And she was.

She helped them through this time of need as much as she could. She was their backbone when they couldn't be. She was the parent to the orphans when they had none. She'd sing her siblings and children to sleep, catch food for them and soothe the broken souls of many. After the battle, her kin had scattered across the lands to find refuge, but she was able to regroup her people together from Bree to Gondor. Even from the Blue Mountains.

She guarded and protected her ilk when they could not fend for themselves. She carried them when they could not bear with it. And eventually they became united under her and her alone. Every Hobbit respected her undoubtedly. She did more for them than any could do for themselves. She was truly the bravest of the brave and the kindest of the kind.

She was their savior.

While some Hobbit's took refuge in different places, they learned from the villages of men how to work with metal and make weapons. From the Blue Mountains some Hobbit's learned to fight and stand in a battle with an Orc or any other enemy. From the elves they had learned how to shoot arrows and gather plants or herbs. So in turn they taught their own people what they had learned.

Many races had taken pity on the Hobbit's, and in that time many learned the languages far and wide of each race, but no one offered all of them shelter and a warm place to stay or help on their adventure. They whole group was welcome for a couple weeks or so, but their injuries were far and wide, some died because of no rest. And barely anyone gave them food. They had to fend for themselves and get grabs from where they could. They had to become strong and learn to fight and, hopefully, find a new land... somewhere.

Many died off from diseases, including Belladonna's family. Some healers, who learned tricks from the other races, had tried to help, but none could lesson some diseases. Many were left orphaned or widowed again. Belladonna was left with a break in her heart as she watched her siblings and people die once again.

Isembard, her older sibling, died when his son was only two years old and his wife was left to defend them herself. She had promised him that she would look after his babe and wife until she fell. Then her brother Hildibrand died when his son was just three. She made no promise for him because he asked and wanted none. But he asked for her to be happy to the best of her abilities. She doubted she could ever fulfill that wish. Her brothers would never live out the rest of their days, and would never see the man their sons would become, or the deeds they would do. It was cruel. Belladonna wept for her brothers.

They would not be the last to die in her family though.

Orcs picked off some of the travelers one by one. They picked off the ones who couldn't fight, or had no will to fight. They picked off women, children and the elderly. So the mothers and women, who were left without men and defenseless, had to pick up the swords as well. They traveled with the children in the center and the adults on the outside. Every time any Orc came by, they were dead.

But there were still casualties. And sometimes, when they rested, the Orcs attacked and picked them off one by one in the dead of night. It was all just silence when they came. You could not hear anything, but the night's winds when they slight their throats or rapped their kin. It was a brutality they were becoming accustomed to, the hard way. Many died from Orcs and many more even committed suicide under the harsh pressure of life.

Hildigrim, Belladonna's older brother, was murdered. He did not even get the chance to hold his first born son. His time was ended by a Warg that belladonna swiftly killed, but she could not help her brother. He was gone to the Valar, to the farthest reaches of a different plane and she was helpless to provide anything to him. Then, there was her youngest sibling, Isengar. He was only twenty-one when he fell to an Orc. He was so young. Belladonna's sword ran black with Orc blood on that day as she hacked a whole group of orcs in her despair and agony.

She would remember these deeds and she would repay it in full. She vowed this as her brother lay dying in her arms and the deaths of her other brothers flashed before her eyes over and over. Only two of her siblings, Donamiria and Mirabella, were alive and well. There was only two out of her eleven siblings that she laughed with, and played with, that were still alive.

She would always scorn the Orcs until she breathed her last breath. Same went with her fellow kin who lost as much as she did. If a Hobbit saw them now, they would kill them right where they stood without any hesitation. That was their sworn promise to anyone. And it seemed, in those days, that oaths and loyalty were the only things anyone could offer each other anymore.

Belladonna led her people from town to town, trying to find refuge somewhere, but, as you were told, none came to their aid. They were only pit stops here and there. None would take in the beaten and battered Halflings as company. Not even the good elves of Rivendell or the Great King Thrainduil, or the Lady Galadriel. Not even Gondor in all its glory and especially not the Iron Hill dwarfs who did nothing for them.

Belladonna took these rejections with a good heart at first, but as bodies and disappointments piled up. Hatred filled her soul for them, and she counted the number of rejections on her list of hatred. Never again would she look to the Elves, dwarfs, or men.

She had no taste for a people who could not at least spare some room for hers or help them on their quest for new land. No longer would she trust them so willingly like she once did. Her family had slowly been taken down one by one while these men, elves and dwarves sat by to watch the carnage. She would never forgive and never forget. And neither would her people as they had to watch these places fade away in the distance while the Elves, dwarfs and men sat idle by and did nothing for them.

Hatred had become something familiar with the Hobbit's.

And kindness was something that was only given to the hobbits by dwarfs, dwarfs of the Blue Mountains. They did not give much too them, but they knew of the woes of traveling lost without a home to know of, and they pitied them. They gave them what they could, but could not let them stay.

King Thorin of the Blue Mountains was far more generous to them than all the other kings and queens. But that was not by much.

Finally, fortune smiled on her people. She found a land beyond the Iron Hills that had been untouched before. It was a deserted land, but it was fertile and none had stepped foot there. It was an unclaimed piece and ripe for their picking. She also did enjoy the solitude of it as well. It was nowhere near the race of men or elves. Only the dwarfs sat close, but they did not mind the dwarfs too much as their kin had helped them. Even if it wasn't those dwarf who sat close by.

This place was perfect for the Hobbits.

Her people built a new life in those lands that they called _**Halcyon**_. It was a word that meant, in the common tongue, peaceful. That is the hope her people at least thought it could bring.

Belladonna soon became a ruler for her people, but nothing was official as they took to rebuilding than naming titles. She was just grateful her two sisters had made it out of the hell they had been through, and she cherished every moment with the two younger siblings.

She became a parent to them and shared in her loss of siblings. They were the closest ones to her besides one other.

Along the way of their journey there was one person the Hobbits had enjoyed as company and helped them greatly. It was a wizard named Gandalf, Gandalf the grey, who had made fabulous fireworks for Old Took before the fall of The Shire.

This wizard had helped her people out greatly. He helped them with their travel and finding their home. He had played with the children when the adults could not. He told tales and stories for the children that Belladonna, and many, knew had to be made up, but it helped with the losses and helped with the sorrow. She owed a lot to this wizard, all of her people did, and every time he came they greeted him with great big smiles.

He became a very dear friend to her, but he noticed changes in her and many others.

Even though at times they were at peace Gandalf saw in their eyes that they still felt the sting of war and the heartbreak of loss. They all had changed. They would never forget what happened and he saw this as he watched them grow obsessed with their strength. They practiced fighting techniques more and more with each other. They took to battling in gardens rather than sitting by with a pipe in hand. They would rather hold a competition of strength than a carnival of fireworks. They had changed and no one saw this more than Gandalf.

Belladonna Took was once a girl of adventure and wonderment, but because of the disaster and peril that had befallen her people and family, she had changed very much. She was a woman who now valued strength and independence than the silly thing called Adventure. This saddened Gandalf as it had also saddened the world. And even though she would not say it, he knew that she had nightmares about those times. She had deep scares in her sleep of when the Orcs attacked, when the blood spilled and when her beautiful Shire burned. He never spoke about it though. He knew it was a touchy subject. She had not even told her sisters who she held such a close bond to. He also knew that her hard exterior was important to the Hobbit's survival in all this.

If she fell, so would the Hobbits.

And, if he could help it, he would not let what happened to them happen once again.

No one knew why the Orcs had attacked. Not even Gandalf knew, but he tried hard to find answers. He could not find a single shred of information though. He didn't understand why they attacked a race of people who meant no threat to them. Belladonna was sure it was because they were just savage creatures but Gandalf knew there was strategy behind the cruelty (even if Belladonna refused to see the reason behind it).

So Gandalf was off many times adventuring out far and wide in search of answers and help for the Hobbits (even if Belladonna didn't want it). So his journeys got longer and his time at Halcyon was shorter and shorter spent, until he stopped coming back altogether.

But in the meantime, Belladonna had officially become Queen of her people, and had married a man.

Their love was a love that held peace. Something that in those times was rare and anyone who saw them together knew of this small glimmer of peace and surety. Although, they were not the perfect couple like many thought they were, including her sisters.

He was a simple worker back in their old country. Now he was a blacksmith, but his heart was still just as tender as it was before. He had tried with trial and error to capture Belladonna's attention. But he could never get her to spare a moment's glance or a few words before she had to do something more important. She always left him all alone in a daze.

It wasn't until they had reached Halcyon, and her worries of her people were dwindled down, had he finally caught her attention. It was when he was gardening next to Belladonna's house, and she saw him delicately handling the plants with such care that it reminded her of Home. It reminded her of her own garden. It reminded her of her deceased siblings and mother and father. It reminded her of how her people once were.

Then she caught his eyes and they had stared at each other for a long while before she finally looked away shaking a strange feeling away. That was the first spark to many. From then on many times you could catch her watching the blacksmith picking flowers or helping his little garden grow.

The Gardner/Blacksmith had seen Belladonna looking at him and noticed she liked watching him garden. He also noticed someone had taken care of his garden while he was working for long grueling hours as a blacksmith. He knew it was Belladonna and he didn't mind.

So it stayed like that until finally he had the courage (that he didn't think he had before) to go up to her and ask her if he could court her. At first Belladonna was iffy. She had a kingdom to run and many things to solve. Not to mention two younger siblings to look after (even though they were fully grown and married, which she resented). She almost rejected this offer and thought it ridiculous, but at the twinkle of hope and the soft eyes; he reminded her of something. He reminded her of something she lost.

So she accepted the courting, if only to find out what the sparkle was in his eye.

After that, it was a slow build for the Hobbit to reach inside her heart, and get acceptance from her sister's. She had a hard life; she watched out for her people, but didn't take into account herself.

She was unkind at times and brazen. There would be long days, hours, where he couldn't talk to her because of how cruel she had been. But she was this way not because she wanted to be, but because her experiences made her this way. Those fires in the Shire, those Orcs, had changed her. The traveling, deaths, and rejections had changed her. The sorrows and tears of her people and siblings had made her different. The burden she carried for so long had molded her into a person who was unemotional and at times unloving to everyone but her siblings.

He found all this out and praised her and admired her strength. He thought that someone so strong could not love someone so weak. But he found out just how wrong he was when he uncovered the nightmares.

He had stayed in her home one night unexpectedly. He was waiting outside her room and just sat there thinking what he was doing trying to win this woman's heart. She would never go for someone so weak and feeble. And that's when he heard it, a scream. He rushed to her room and saw the thrashing in her sleep, the screams of horror and the terrified eyes. He held her down and soothed her, holding her dearly. And to both their surprises, it had calmed her down.

After the incident, he held her during those times and she only allowed him there. She wouldn't allow her people to see her in her weak state of mind. He soothed her wounds and hushed her to sleep, singing sweet nothings into her ear. She would never tell him, but she was weak and weary. And he made her strong, but he knew it all too well.

Then she opened her whole heart to him, and they both fell deeply and unconditionally in love. In the process she found out what the glimmer was in his eyes. It was not hope, or admiration. It was innocence, a soul, something she thought she had lost long ago with the deaths of her family, and the burning of the shire. But she found it again with the love of Bungo Baggins.

So after a while she finally married him and he became the King of the Hobbits by her side. They had bounced back from this plague and instead were given a new hope. It was everything she wanted for her people, and something she didn't expect to be given to herself. Her sisters agreed as well; they rather liked Bungo Baggins.

Her sisters had families growing of their own as well. They had fair husbands and becoming children. It was everything she wanted for them and more. Belladonna's family was complete and though she mourned still for her brothers and parents she was satisfied with her dear sisters and loving husband.

Things seemed to be going alright then. Except, there were whispers heard from the Orcs that something was coming. It was something big.

Hobbits had caught wind of this from travelers who wanted to see the "Changlings", as they liked to call them. They heard of the Orcs organizing something once again deep in the mountains. They knew that they were coming. But unlike the first time, they were warned and ready for this. They were prepared to fight or die for this village, for Halcyon.

Belladonna was too.

And so once again, Orc's marched on Hobbit land. Leading hundreds of the vile creatures to their village, but they underestimated the Hobbits. When the Orcs came the King protected the village with part of the army. And the Hobbit's Queen took them across the lands into battle away from the village, wielding her sword high in the air, striking anything down in her path. The Hobbit's fought back with as much strength as they could muster, putting all their skills at work. Even some very skilled women joined into the fighting.

But this was not just any other battle; this was _**the**_ battle for the Hobbits, for Belladonna. It was a chance for them to get their vengeance on the Orcs that had destroyed their lands, and killed off their people. It was their chance to take a stand against them. It was Belladonna's chance to repay the deaths of her family. Hate went into ever cut and slice. Ire and sorrow went into every death of an Orc, and every battle cry was for the cries of the ones who had died in pain and worry.

In no time they had made victory!

They had defeated the spawns of Sauron. Their lady, Belladonna, stood on a pile of Orcs. Her sword was implanted into the head of one as she shouted to her people in victory. She had fulfilled what she said she would do. She had protected her country, her land, and her people, and family. She had protected what was dear to her.

Although in the rage of Victory and the ebullience of it, unfortunately for her, an Orc had come during the battle and hid away until the very end. He had come for her, and in her glorious moment she was struck down with a black arrow. It had been dipped in poison. The Hobbits stared horrified as their Queen fell in the victory. People rushed to her aid and some went to fight off the rest of their enemy, but the Orc had escaped with the rest of his small legion.

They left the Hobbits alone, but with the price of a wounded leader.

The healers tried everything the race of Men, elves and dwarfs had taught them, but nothing worked. In their time of need they looked to Gandalf, but as they prayed, their Queen grew weaker and weaker. Their hope was diminishing, and as Gandalf never showed, Queen Belladonna drew nearer to death.

They tried to send for elves and men healers, even dwarf healers, but it was all too late. It was a year after the battle ended that she died. Her husband was now ruler of the kingdom of Halcyon. Her sisters were devastated as they had lost another parent and a sibling as well. Her passing sent cries of sorrow into the air and all over again it felt like the hobbit's hope had died. For days they mourned their Queen. Many nights they cursed the Valar and many mornings they wished the sun didn't shine so bright. For them nothing should be bright after their leaders passing.

They never trusted anyone after Gandalf, and they became more enclosed than any other race. No one had seen them and no one dared go to their lands anymore.

Their race became a race that people recognized as a force of power now, but a power that was independent of everyone else. It stood on its own two feet, and never looked back. Rumors spread of them being turned into monsters or cursed. None had seen them in so long, and none would for a long while. They had lost their faith in others so they turned their back on the world. And soon enough the world turned their back on them as well, and the Wizard that was, never came back to Halcyon.

The death of their leader caused a slash into their chests, a siring cut into their hearts. They were strong, but they were undoubtedly wounded.

And the Queen that once was lay to rest in a deep slumber...

And here ends the tale of our Queen Belladonna Took may her spirit rest in peace for the years to come and the nights to follow...


	4. Chapter 4

**Years later . . . .**

Year of 2911

Halcyon, the city of hobbits, it was a place of open lush fields with tall fruitful trees. You could hear the sounds of the wind whistling through the air as it carried the giggles and voices of many hobbits on its breeze. Little children played in the long fields, with their swords and daggers made of wood in a game of Orc and Hobbit. They raced each other back to their homes now though. They had seen the sun setting up above, and knew their mothers would have a mouthful to say if they did not run home soon. The dark was no place for a hobbit to wander about in.

"Race you, Orc,"

"I'm not an Orc, you're an Orc." They giggled as they skipped their way back into town with glee.

Across from the green fields that the children skipped in, lay the market place. It sizzled with the voices of many preparing to leave, but you could still hear the mingling of Hobbits as they packed up for the night. They chatted about the weather, prices and a great deal of other things as hobbits would always be creatures of socialization. Near there, you could also see the training grounds that lay in its own arena. There, hobbits yelled drills in the heat of the sun as they hacked at the air with their swords. Sweat dripped down their hands and faces as they continued the exercise, with the warmth of the sun tormenting them. Their only salvation was the wind's breeze, and the closing night as they thrust their swords in the air.

Yes, everything seemed to be just fine in this nicely tucked village. Farmer's fed their live stocks and watched over their lands as they listened to the wind, and the singing of birds. People cleaned their houses with their doors open, letting the sun touch their tanned skins.

Just fine indeed this place was, although not everything in Halcyon was all in order.

"Bilbo Gamgee, you come here this instant!" A voice rang through the market place as it yelled towards a figure that darted and curved its way around people and stands.

"Bilbo, get out here now!" the voice bellowed as it tried following the small creature through the crowds of hobbit's. The small thing that the shouting hobbit hollered to moved quickly behind a counter that was not being used, waiting behind there as still as the grave as he watched for his mother. Slowly, he could see his mother stomp off in her body armor past hobbits, stretching her body far above the crowd to see where he had go on off to. But as she ventured further away from the creature, the little thing started to sigh in relief that his mother had not caught him.

But he felt bad as he looked at her confused and flustered face. She walked with her ax on her belt and full armor, sweating in the heat of the summer evening. Her scars showed off on her arms as the body armor only shielded her mid-section. Chain mail weighed down on her with the thick shirt underneath it. Her brown hair, which was pulled back in a ponytail, had strands that stuck to her face as she moved her head about, trying to find her lost son. The small one did feel quiet bad since she had just come from training, but the Hobbit shrugged.

_She did kind of deserve it anyways._

As the Hobbit thought to himself. He kept his eyes too closely on his mother. And when the woman looked around again, her eyes bloomed in glee and anger. "Bilbo, come here!" Bilbo watched horrified as his mother found him. She had a murderous look in her eyes that would make any Orc shiver. He quickly ran away once again, trying to escape his ludicrous mother as she yelled his name over and over again. He did not, no matter what, want to get caught by his mother. He would rather go to Mordor and back than face the fierceness of the thing that birthed him.

"Stop, move, sorry, excuse me," she kept repeating as she tried to tail her young hobbit, while in the process of knocking over a couple of other grown hobbits, which said little comments here and there about her. She mumbled back replies of sorry and some other indecent things. Bilbo couldn't help giggling a little at his mom, although that didn't really go over well with his mother. "Bilbo, I'm going to skin you alive!" she shouted finally using the insults she wanted to. But as expected she got a couple of stares for it. This chase of prey and hunter went on for a couple minutes until Bilbo ran into something with leather clothes. The traveler looked down at the Hobbit, and he did the same in return.

_Did anyone else know he was here?_

He thought as he stared up at the worried and panicked face. "Bilbo!" the woman called and he hid behind the man before his mother could see him.

The woman looked around for her son once again. She felt cheated as she stared out into the crowd not seeing a glimpse of the little thief. She sighed, "Ugh, Bilbo," she said a sense of melancholy in her voice. When she could not find the young one, she just decided to turn around and what for the little orc to come home. When out of the keen corner of her eye, she saw one person standing still in the moving crowd.

She would have thought nothing of it, if it wasn't for the fact he was a traveler, a man perhaps, and that was just enough to suspect him. He also stared at her as if she had a tooth coming out of her eye.

_So what was he doing here anyways?_

Although, the real reason why she suspected him was just the fact that Bilbo was around here, and that man was standing really still. The woman turned back around and marched over to the traveler.

His eyes lit up wildly as she stalked over to him, and he seemed to fidget in his place a little. But he did not move. "Have you seen a young hobbit running around here?" she asked in irritation. The traveler eyed her in confusion as he looked around, through out the market place, and then smiled, replying with, "There are young hobbit's everywhere." The woman smiled at the comment, but it wasn't genuine and he knew it.

She then steadily came over to him, still smiling, and she placed her hand on his shoulder, which was quiet high up. Then, in an instant, she grabbed his cloak, pulling him down to her level, and grabbed a knife from out of her pants, pointing it at his throat.

She smiled. "Where's Bilbo?" the man flinched at the knife and looked around for help, but none even spared a second glance. It wasn't unusual for someone to have a knife in hand at the market place; actually it was a frequent occurrence in the place, because of how close the training grounds were to it. Plus, nobody cared for a traveler of men or elves. For reasons that would make any person agree with their thought process. The hobbit knew that any traveler who is wise, should know that if he retaliated things would go up in flames in a matter of minutes. She smirked as the man's eyes bounced about in confusion.

The stranger looked like a deer caught at the other end of an arrow.

"I- uh-" he began only for him to stop when the woman dipped the knife slightly harder into his neck. "Don't lie," the man sighed and nodded his head. He then motioned behind him. The woman smirked as she put the knife away, feeling that it had served its purpose.

"Thanks,"

She quickly moved him out of the way, voicing with bitterness and victory, "Bilbo Gamgee, it's-" she stopped talking when she realized there was a lack of Bilbo, or any young hobbit, behind the man. She glared down at the spot and then whirled around to the traveler. She looked at him spiteful, but she knew that, most likely, the boy had scampered off to the Valar knew where, while she was interrogating the man.

She put her hand on her head to wipe away the sweat that had collected from all the running. She observed the man staring at his completely covered form in sympathy and irritation. She hadn't seen a traveler here in a while, and surely not a man. She thought none really knew that hobbits existed anymore or where they were if they did. Some pass through here though, but leave as soon as they do. After all, they weren't exactly welcome here, and for good reasons.

Mrs. Gamgee rolled her eyes at the man and smashed hard into his side as a couple memories surfaced from long ago. Memories she thought she let go, but like the hobbit she was, she never gave that anger up, like most of her kin.

"Thanks a lot," she said sarcastically as she moved back to her house, leaving the traveler behind. Her thoughts then soon left the stranger, back to her son. She was going to kill Bilbo when she found him.

"Ma!" the woman ignored the voice, until she heard that familiar ring of the word again. She looked up to find her older son Hamfast waving to her. "Hamfast," she called and went over to him as he asked, "What are you doing here?" She smiled at him not wanting to say that she just chased Bilbo all the way from Lobelia's house. No, then there would be an uprising of running children. She couldn't have that, and, she wouldn't admit it, but her pride was a little weighed down.

She rubbed his back as her smile widened. "Oh nothing, just decided to come here for a little bit." Hamfast narrowed his gaze on his mother knowingly. She rolled her eyes at her second eldest son's expressive face. "Is it Bilbo again?" he questioned. She scoffed as she shook her head and stomped off. "Like it would be Bilbo. Please, I can handle that child whenever I need to."

Hamfast rolled his eyes at his mother's pride. A god couldn't even strike down her pride, much less another Hobbit, besides her son of course. "Mama," Hamfast said with a tone that was low and a little bit to the point he was trying to make. His mother sighed. "He ran off again," Hamfast sighed as well.

His brother had been causing a whole bunch of ruckus lately. Someone had said they caught him stealing in Lobelia's house, which not too many people cared for. Lobelia _had_ been stealing things from other hobbit's house from day one. But still, a respectable Hobbit, or even person, does not steal from other people. Even if it was done in some form of good will.

Hamfast patted his mother's back.

"So, you ran all the way here to get him," she nodded her head. "Sometimes I don't know what I'm going to do with him," Hamfast laughed. "Nobody does,"

"True," his mother agreed as she looked up at the sky in a nostalgic sort of way. A small smile placed on her face at some far off and distant memory. It made Hamfast sad for some reason. Whenever she looked up at the sky, it was like she was looking at someone, someone she knew very well, and for some reason it just seemed sad.

_What are you thinking about?_

Hamfast always wondered, but he never had the courage to actually ask. He always thought that it would be rude. Just because she seemed to want to keep her memories close to heart. She never told them about The Land of Sorrows. None spoke of either of these things, but if you caught them drinking their memories away, then you may catch a phrase or so about it. The most he heard was just that it was peaceful, even more peaceful than this, and none of them trained like they did now. He heard that they had big bellies, and that before, they had Thane's. Before women never fought, and all anyone had to worry about was keeping the family happy, and keeping others out of your business.

But that was before The Queen's Battle, and before the land of sorrows, that was before everything.

He had first learned of these events from songs. Every Hobbit learned the songs that were made in the memories of these events. When the day came around of Queen Belladonna's death, many would sing her song, and many would sing The Land of Sorrows. Both songs were depressing, but it helped them remember something. Something that Hamfast learned quickly shaped them and remodeled them. It made you understand why they were the way they were now. It helped him understand why he trained for battle. It was a point he got, but it wasn't something that his younger brother, Bilbo, did. He worried about that. He worried about it a lot.

"Mama," Hamfast said quietly almost so that his mother did not hear. She turned to him her eyes open in question of him. He glanced at her and questioned, "Do you think that- that Bilbo will ever come around and be a Hobbit?" His mother looked at him with narrowed eyes as the moved along the path. Her eyes then fell to the ground in consideration. Then, as the road cleared in front of them, she stopped him with a hand placed on his shoulder.

She glanced up at him in what seemed to be hesitation on her mind. Soon enough though, she spoke, "Hamfast, there is something you need to know." Hamfast stared at his mother worried. "What mama?" the woman looked down at her son in determination. But then the look faltered, and for a split second she looked down away from Hamfast, and this time it was not nostalgic, but just an overbearing look of consideration.

She looked down at the ground, and nodded her head as if consulting over something. "Mama?" Hamfast called again. His mother squeezed his shoulder, and stared at him. "Bilbo..." She began to explain, but then paused. "Bilbo is-is a good Hobbit." She stated abruptly as she squeezed his shoulder a bit harder. Her gaze then became a bit fierce, or angry. "Don't treat your brother like that." She pointed out. Her gaze was still in a fit of what seemed to be rage, but as Hamfast called her name once again she softened the hold. Her hand then slipped from his shoulder, and her eyes looked tired, weary. She seemed older than she should ever have to.

"He may not be like us, like any other Hobbit, but sometimes that is good. And in this case, it's wonderful, that he is different, because we need different." She said a sadness fallen on her face. Hamfast acted quickly to right his wrong.

"I'm sorry, mama. I didn't mean to insult him I just-" he was cut off as his mother shook her head. "No, I'm sorry, Hamfast. I shouldn't scold you... Least of all you, since you have stuck up for your brother more times than I can count."

His mother patted his shoulder. Her eyes still filled with sadness as she stared off into the crowd of hobbits. Her brown and white stranded hair pulled back while some strands stuck to her face. Her lines visible and scars seemed to be more pronounced on her face. It made her look older than her age. She shifted her gaze back to his observing one and smiled. She then ruffled his hair and brought him in for a half hug.

"You love your brother more than anything. I know you're just worried about him fitting in, but that's the thing about Bilbo." She explained, pausing while a small smile came to her face now, "He doesn't have to fit in. He is fine with being strange." He stared at his mother as they started to walk back home slowly.

"Hey, Hamfast,"

"Yeah, mama?" She smirked. "What's for dinner?" Hamfast huffed and moved away from his mother.

"Oh, I see, you're just trying to get a good meal out of me," the woman laughed at her son. "What else would I try to do?" The boy smiled at his mother and walked closely by her as they made their way home.


	5. Chapter 5

Bilbo watched in relief as his mother and brother walked home with his mother's arm hanging over his brother's shoulders. Bilbo couldn't help but feel a little jovial as he came out of his hiding place. He had just run away from his headstrong mother. Yes, he felt quiet jubilant at that. Bilbo began to walk and as he did; he kept his eyes glued on his mother and brother ever watchful.

That was until he bumped into a tall figure.

"Hey," he said quickly closing his mouth and looking back at his family who, thankfully, had gone by then. Bilbo looked up at this tall figure and he remembered him from earlier. He had hid behind the traveler and then snuck away as his mother interrogated him.

Bilbo looked at the man. He had a hood on him that covered some of his face though and a small pack as well. He wore a long greenish-black cloak and a shirt that went all the way up to his neck. He wore a couple layers of shirts actually (all black), and had very dirty boots (black) and pants (black) as well. He wore a sword on his belt and a couple other weapons.

_He was quiet tall._

Bilbo thought as he looked him over. The man smiled down at him. Bilbo shrugged not thinking anything of it, and didn't say anything else. Instead he moved to the side about to continue on his way, but the man stepped in front of him blocking him from leaving. Bilbo looked up at the traveler in confusion and annoyance. When he looked up though the stranger still held a little smile on his face. As if he was the most innocent person in the world.

Bilbo glared at him, but moved to the other side, but he found he was halted in his movements by the tall figure once more. Bilbo looked up at the man that still smiled, and the traveler just stood there as if nothing was wrong.

The young hobbit threw a scowl at him and swiftly moved to the other side, but he was blocked. He tried several quick moves to try to get around this man, but he seemed to be faster than even his hobbit feet, which were very fast indeed. Bilbo finally sighed in defeat and looked back up at the queer man.

"Will you let me pass?"

"You are a very curious hobbit," the man said as he knelt down to Bilbo's level. Bilbo shrugged and took it as a complement. His whole life he had been labeled as weird and he didn't mind it too much.

"Yes I am," Bilbo stated and put his hands on his hips with a little sass and attitude in his little hobbit voice. "Now can you move I have to be somewhere?" The hobbit said but the stranger didn't budge, and still the man would step in front of his path.

"What do you want?" The hobbit threw his hands in the air frustrated and the man narrowed his gaze. "What do you want?" Bilbo was left a little puzzled by these words, but for some reason the hobbit liked this man.

"What's your name?" the hobbit asked and the man raised an eyebrow, "I have many names," the hobbit smirked. "Well," Bilbo said "I just need one," the man chuckled at the hobbit's wit. He had a little bit of sass and a smart mouth. They were traits that not many had.

"My name is Bilbo Gamgee," he eyed him and asked, "Now what's yours?"

_I like him, _the man thought and he pondered the question he was given.

_Which name to choose?_

He thought it over and soon he found a very suitable title. "They call me ranger. Ranger of the mountains," he said picking a name he used to have from his youth.

The hobbit thought on this name, _Ranger of the mountains?_ He wondered and then his attention snapped at the name. He now knew why he liked him so much.

_Mountains! He had seen the mountains! He was a ranger! He had been all over!_ Bilbo thought excitement bursting throughout his body.

"You've seen the dwarfs, the elves, the goblins, The Orcs!" Bilbo yelled a little loud and the ranger looked around, noticing the other hobbit's, which turned their attention to them. Bilbo and the ranger were being stared at now. And a lot of attention was drawn to this man, some unwanted attention, especially since he was talking to a young hobbit. It was bad news if you talked too much with any of the young. Hobbit's had grown cautious and didn't trust anyone much less a man with their children. So they stared at the two here and there, watching over the small one. The man knew he had to go soon if he didn't bad things to happen to himself.

"Yes, I have," the man said quickly and before Bilbo could ask questions the man silenced him. "I have to go now," the Hobbit frowned his eyes wide in sadness.

"Why?" he asked and the stranger smiled knowingly, "You know why," Bilbo was quite after that statement. He knew why. It was because of the other hobbits. It was because of what had happened between his people and this ranger's. He knew. "Yeah, alright," Bilbo said still a little disgruntled over the whole thing, but he knew it was dangerous for the man.

The ranger smiled at the boy and then picked at something from his belt. In no time came out a small knife with a holder. "Here, changeling, have this," the man said giving it to the little hobbit whose eyes went wide with wonderment as he felt the leather. He noticed some kind of writing on it, but he didn't understand it. It was written in what he assumed to be a different language, possibly dwarfish.

The hobbit touched the handle at the very top and felt the string of leather that wrapped around the handle. It was made for gripping tightly. He slowly pulled it half way out and was met by the glimmering of silver. It was truly beautiful.

"This was made in Erobor, the great city of the dwarfs. It has a little bit of elfish metal in it as well." The hobbit scrunched his face at the last comment, but accepted the swords origins. He was not fancy to elves, but it was mostly dwarfs anyways, and it came from Erobor. The king himself could have made the weapon, but considering it was made with elfish metal who knew. The man continued, while he smiled at the young ones reaction.

"May it protect you as it had me," the man said and got up. He spared a look down at the mesmerized hobbit before he started to walk off. But when he did, the hobbit yelled back at him, "Wait," the man stopped for only a second.

"What does it say?"

"You'll understand when you're older," he said and made his way.


	6. Chapter 6

Bilbo looked at the man who had just made a very strange introduction to him. The hobbit shrugged though, and put the knife around his belt tucking it away while he made no note of the conversation. When he was sure it was secure, the hobbit raised his head. He then swiftly noticed the falling sun and heard the rummaging of people putting things away and beginning to lock up as the sun fell.

He kicked his feet off the ground with a start through the town, running as fast as he could while smiling. His feet hitting the dirt and grass covered earth without a care. He raced passed smials and hobbits alike. He did not spare a glance to anything, but the sunset.

It took a few moments before he was at his favorite spot in all of Halcyon. It was just on the out skirts of town where the farms and such started. He always came there to watch as the sun descended behind the earth. He smiled as he was just in time for it.

Hastily he made his way to a certain tree, and with expertise, quickly climbed it. When he was far enough up, he was met by a glorious view. The orange sun blazed onwards it fell to dusk and the glow of it shot off the blue sky with purples, pinks and yellow. Then behind it a darker blue grew near, with a rising moon. He sat there in awe of the brilliant sun as it began to fade in the distance, and far off, over miles of earth, and hundreds of trees stood the lonely mountain. It was just a speck over the farms and trees. Just a small spec, but he knew it was there

He had to say he never found any joy in anything more than looking at the Lonely Mountain.

He could only imagine how it really was from the tales his mother and father told him. The tales they told of the great halls of Erobor, and the Lonely Mountain that they heard from the dwarves of the Blue Mountains. Bilbo had asked many nights about their travels, many days about the tales they had learned from them. They at first did not want to tell him anything about their travels and what they had heard. But after some prodding and little promises, they finally broke under his whip of determination.

They described the dwarfs as lively folk who had long beards and braided hair. They were shorter than men, but taller than Hobbits and had stubby hands just right for tight grips and metal working. They loved to drink and to sing and were close in bonds. His mother and father said that they were a people who also had a deep greed within themselves for gold.

"They treasured gold like dragons..." his mother had told him once, making him think of the dwarfs as mini dragons when he was younger. Bilbo laughed at the thought now though. It seemed quiet childish once he saw a dwarf pass through his village. He was kind of terrifying, but nothing like a dragon.

Bilbo often thought of the great halls of the dwarfs. Many nights and many days he dreamed of them. He thought of hearing their merry songs and looking at their famed bearded woman.

His hobbit parents had also spoken, not very lightly though, of the elves of Rivendell and Mirkwood especially Thrainduil. "The Stingy elf king of Mirkwood," or so his mother liked to call him. Although his mother spoke somewhat about a beautiful she-elf called Galadriel as well, but she did not elaborate too much on her. She had a deep resentment for the woman, but would not speak too many bad words of her. She had said she was the most beautiful thing his mother had ever laid her eyes upon.

But the lady of Lothlorien had still left them out in the cold with no help. That was all the hobbit could get out of his mother.

His father spoke of their buildings and how they differed very much from other races. They seemed wiser and had erudite. Many times they told him about their tunes they played and how tall these creatures were. She had described them as having long straight hair with elegant dresses and suits. His parents also mentioned that they had mystical healing powers and other magic that none really understood.

The elves seemed like a mystery within a mystery to Bilbo. But he was reminded by his mother not to trust them. They were a people who turned them away without a second glance or hesitation; they were that sort of people.

At this Bilbo couldn't imagine being his mother and father, having to walk on a beaten path with injured and sick, barely any food or rest to move on the trail, absolutely no assistance from this race. That was enough to make Bilbo turn cold towards them and he did. It made him dislike the elves just by imagining his father and mother out in the cold or in the heat with barely any food, having to carry children or elderly with their starved bellies and thirsty mouths. It made his jaw clench at the thought.

His mother had told him about their journey to the kingdoms of men, Rohan and Gondor. She had said that the men were just as tall as elves and their features were scattered as some wore beards, some wore none. They were a race that could be like elves, dwarfs, and hobbits all at once. They were a curious bunch of people. Very confusing, but in their hearts they were good, although they were not good to the Hobbits. They did let them in for a couple of days. She had talked a little bit more fondly of them, but not that much. They still offered no service to the quest they set out and even though she spent more than one day there. It was surely not enough for the whole group of people to heal and regain their strength. They were cast out without even a man to help on their quest.

"Did the dwarfs help?" Bilbo had asked once, the two parent's eyed each other. They both nodded,

They spoke of the generosity of the dwarfs of the Blue Mountains and how they let them stay and given them food. They let them stay for a while, far longer than any of the other races dared.

But before Bilbo could smile in glee or speak or question anything, they spoke again.

"They had helped us because they had their own misfortunes once upon a time..." his father had said and then they told him the tale of Erobor and the Dragon Smaug. They told him of the mountains fire, the dragon's greed, destroying of Dale, the Arkenstone and expressed on the betrayal of the elven king.

They spoke of tales of their own battle to then reclaim Moria, and the murder of two of the Durin family. Then they spoke of Thorin, the King under the mountain. They told of how he fought back against the Orcs and rose in the battle field leading the dwarfs to victory. Afterwards, though, they never feasted or rejoiced. Too many had died, too many had fallen, and too much was lost. Not enough was gained in the battle. None sang in victory.

They had sheltered the Hobbit's for more days than any of the races, but they did not do much else than that and had not helped them on their quest. They understood and took the rejection with a heart that was satisfied slightly. But what made Hobbit's turn their backs on the dwarfs were the iron Hill dwarfs, who did not spare anything for them. Not one coin. They gave some bread, some water and that was more than the Elven king of Mirkwood did, but still not enough.

Many died from the starvation.

After those tales were told, Bilbo grew more curious about other things they had not spoken of.

"What happened to the Shire mama?" Bilbo at first thought he shouldn't have asked this question and before he had hesitated on it many times. But he built the courage to inquire about it. Now he regretted ever asking. His mother looked at him with the saddest expression he had ever seen, and tears pricked at her eyes as memories of those times drifted to her. "Mama," he had said and went over to her. She had hugged him tightly that night. He never asked again.

But his curiosity grew.

He wanted to ask about Queen Belladonna, but none of that happened. He didn't want to upset his mother or his father again. He knew these subjects were difficult for them so instead he'd sneak into the bar and listened to the men and women talk of old times. It was usually the much older and elderly Hobbit's who did this. "I remember the carefree style we all used to have. Remember that?" Someone had asked and they all nodded laughing.

"Yep, remember the festivals and the fireworks that we made, the gorgeous fests we had. No worries at all, all you had was a pipe in your mouth and your nose out of others business." They laughed at the comment, but Bilbo didn't really get why. They laughed quietly so that the younger hobbits didn't listen. Bilbo had heard from a couple other sessions that they hated it when the younger ones asked questions, because too many brought back too many feelings. Bilbo could understand that.

"I remember the fires," an old woman said out of nowhere, killing the laughter. She had paused for but a moment more, and Bilbo thought that was just to get the others attention. She continued then. "I remember the Orcs that came down on us like hell fire. The Orcs that burned our houses with babies in them or children," Bilbo slowly felt himself feeling sad. They were talking about the land, The land of Sorrows. It made Bilbo's stomach turn. "I remember the blades that stung your skin that night, the sobs, the blood, on that dreadful night." Everything near them went silent, or at least all that Bilbo could hear from hiding in a box.

The voice spoke up again and sliced that silence.

"The after math was no fairy tale either; we all mourned. We all cried and we all moved on because if we didn't the Orcs would have hunted us down." They sipped their drinks as the old woman talked once again, giving everyone around her shivers to the bone and goose bumps on their skin. Something told Bilbo she wasn't a happy drunk.

"The ash was everywhere. You could no longer walk through the Shire and have a happy sensational feeling run through you." Bilbo could only imagine it as she described their old home. "Instead you couldn't help but weep as you found skulls and bodies everywhere. The injured men and women, some children, were by the hundreds. Many didn't make it the next day." Sips were heard in the pause that sounded. Many must have been deep in thought.

"It was a sight I never thought I would have had to see." She said and paused again. Bilbo looked down at the ground while his mind processed this information, and he had to say that just the thought of it made him want to weep. The woman continued, "A sight none should have seen." She added as she moved about now, sipping her drink.

"Sometimes, I wonder how we even made it through," she paused and thought, taking a swig of her drink. "If it wasn't for Belladonna, I don't know how we would have survived." Many agreed with hums of assurance. They stayed quiet then, while their minds swam around with thoughts.

"Belladonna was a great woman, mighty, strong, beautiful," many agreed once again and the sad feeling the woman planted on them faded away. It was replaced by a nostalgic sort of feel. "But she fell," the old woman said bringing back the melancholy feeling that dropped back on them like a hammer. "She was a grand warrior, but in the blindness of victory she was stuck down."

"I heard that she was stowed away for a year or so before that battle took place. Like a couple years before, maybe two. Some say she died because of a sickness, and the poison just helped it along." This new comer to the conversation sounded like a young voice. A shy voice it sounded like. Bilbo could not see their faces, but if he did. He would have guessed that the woman was smirking now.

"Aye, that did happen," the old woman stated a little bit of hoarseness in her voice as she spoke. "Some think she planned something with the wizard then, but he never kept his promise." Another older man mentioned, but the woman seemed to disagree. "No, that wasn't it,"

"What do you mean?" the shy voice asked and the woman took a sip, from what Bilbo could hear, "she was preparing things for her death." A few of the men scoffed, but some held their breath.

"Why?" The shy voice said, the woman answered. "She was not naïve. She knew there was a chance that she would die in battle. So she made sure that Bungo would get the kingdom and it would not be stolen from under him." Silence surrounded the room. "She also made sure that if Bungo died then her sister, Donamiria, would get the kingdom. It was a good thing she did too. Bungo eventually died a couple years after her death anyways."

"I believe it," a man said in accord with her and then sipped his drink. "How would you know this?" the shy voice asked her and the woman chuckled as a sip of her drink was being taken once again. She stopped sipping from her drink as the sound of her beverage being finished came to Bilbo's ears.

"I was a servant of hers," she said as the sound of a drink being set down was heard with a thunk. Bilbo then listened as footsteps were made, and he suspected it was her moving away to the exit. She stopped though. "It doesn't really matter. In the end, she is still dead." And that was the end of that conversation and of Bilbo's eavesdropping.

Bilbo stared out on the Lonely Mountain, being pulled away from his memories. He could see it just over the farming fields. It was a magnificent sight to see the sun setting on the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo sometimes just dreamed of running all the way to there and seeing those great halls for himself. Seeing the great Dwarven king Thorin and just having a conversation with him or even having a meal with him.

He didn't feel as much resentment towards the dwarfs of the Blue Mountains, but everyone else he hated. Most of all he hated the elves. The thought of his mother out in the harsh breeze having to hunt for food while injured, made his fists clench until they were white. But Bilbo let it go right now. He wanted to enjoy the sun falling on the Lonely Mountain.

In reticence, he watched as a moth came in to view of the smidgen of sun's glow left, and the moth seemed to call to him. It seemed to beckon to him saying sweetly "Come." He stayed still though and just enjoyed watching it fly off. The breeze softly made the moth flutter away to the distance. The slight breeze then moved his hair and grazed across his skin. It was a light warm wind. And as he opened his eyes the hobbit reached out for the Lonely Mountain thinking if he just closed his fingers around it then maybe, just maybe, he'd be back there in the old times to see Dale, and to see Erobor. Just for one day. But as he brought the hand back and opened it, there was nothing there.

_One day_

The small young hobbit smiled lightly and was in love with the view. One day he'd run all the way there. One day he'd see the halls of Erobor. One day. The hobbit sighed; the moth was gone. It had flown off into the burning sunlight, flying to the high sky.

_Today was a good day_.

He watched as the sun vanished beyond the distance into oblivion.

He stayed for a little while until it was completely dark out. He stayed still though. He wanted to see the sparkling stars before he went back home to be yelled and screamed at. Then forced to exercise while explaining why exactly he ran from Lobelia's house. He knew that this wouldn't be swept under the carpet. His mother was the kind of woman who knew what disobedience could make a child, "...A 'Stingy' elven king is what you would become no doubt about that," is what she'd say. Bilbo laughed at her words. He loved his mother. He really did.

Bilbo sat nicely in the tree watching the stars now come out. Their brightness was mystifying to all who saw. Bilbo wished he could just escape to those stars. So he could watch the world from up there. Rather than stay in this little town and train all day and night. He'd rather run in the fields and escape in trees, but he wasn't born to do that. So Bilbo climbed down from the tree and made his way home. It was going to be a long night for him.


	7. Chapter 7

". . .And never again will ours," Bilbo sang as he made his way down to the house. They were farther way from the rest of the Hobbit's, but that didn't make it any less cozy. His mother just liked the quiet back here and she also was paranoid of the other hobbit's that were a bit noisy.

Bilbo strides over to the house when something catches his ears. He hears something strange in his ear. The hobbit, curious as to what it was, began to squint in the dark. Something strange moved outside his house. Then a couple figures moved off into the distances, but Bilbo didn't think too much off it. It was probably those irksome Tooks, he had thought, and walked into the house.

But as he opened the door he was met with nothing. Everything was dark and everything was quelled.

_Yes, no punishment!_

Bilbo thought as he strolled into the house. He was afraid that everyone would be awake, well his parents, and they would scowled him. Then make him do training exercise as punishment while his siblings laughed and picked at him. He was very grateful they had decided to retire. Last time he had to do a punishment he was sore for three days and still had to go to the training grounds. It was hell.

The young hobbit walked into the strangely cold and dark house with a slight smile on his face, but that did not mean the danger was over for him. He had to be very quiet for his mother had hearing like a bat. Plus, he would have to face the punishment tomorrow anyways, but it was better than that night. He was too tired to do anything.

Bilbo walked in stepping quietly on the wood so not to wake his parents or siblings. He tip toed as best as a hobbit could, but he stopped as something queer touched his feet. The young one felt something cold on the floor, it was like touching a liquid. He backed away from the strange substance. The small hobbit did not know what it was and it sort of frightened him as he was in the dark. Then a stench hit his nose.

_What is that foul smell?_

As he pondered this for a while a sort of light shinned in his mind. He knew what it was; it was probably his mother who tried to cook, but burned and did something to the food. And then she spilled some water on the floor. He sighed at his ridiculous mother. He was quickly pulled from his thoughts though when he felt something on his feet. The liquid had reached him once again and the smell seemed to be getting worse every moment he stayed.

_How could it have traveled?_

He looked down and thought it must have been water, but it felt a little bit stickier. The hobbit quickly went to the door slightly opening it and letting the moon's light shine in his home. In that moment he regretted it. He regretted it for the rest of his life.

"Mama," he said as he looked down in a puddle of red. He looked down in a puddle of blood. He opened the door more and watched as the light reached deep inside his house. Horror arose in him as he saw fingers laying still and then bodies stacked on each other, cuts and slashes on almost every inch of their corpses. He saw all this as the door was left wide opened. The light let him stare at his dead family without any mercy. The hobbit gasped as he noticed their faces. He recognized their clothes. It was his mother, father, brothers and sister. All of them were dead and stacked up like they were meat. Meant for the picking and grilling of others.

"Andwise?" Bilbo called as he felt himself begin to cry. He felt himself begin to break. He held his arms as he looked at the faces that were mangled, and the bodies that were torn. "Ham?" he called to them, but they were dead. He knew they were dead. Who could have survived the cruel gashes, and the cruel wounds?

"Da?" the Hobbit sobbed. He fell to his knees as he stared at the pile of his family, feeling as if someone had knocked the wind right out of him. Tears fell down his face, corrupting his heart. "Ma-uhg-mama?" he says as tears drip to his mouth, and fall to the blood soaked ground. He could barely say things now as the sobs and cries erupted from his voice.

"Ah," he cried until he heard rustling and stood up immediately. His breathing was shaky and cries were silenced. He wasn't alone.

"Bil-bilbo-bilbo,"

Bilbo backed away from the pile of bodies. Suspecting the voice had come from it. The small hobbit relied on his instincts. He pulled the dagger, which he had got earlier that day, out of its case and waited for an attack. "Who is there?" He questioned his voice high pitched with fear clearly in it.

"Hamfast," the voice called quickly with a gasp at the end. Bilbo's eyes widened with surprise and relief as the tears were still coming out of his eyes. He went over to the bodies of his family and tried to find Hamfast. Even when the stench of the corpses had engulfed him, he tried. He did not look at their faces though. It was too much for him. He would not be able to look if he saw one face vividly.

"Where are you?" the hobbit cried to the other, who hushed him, but his voice was failing him and Bilbo knew that meant he was hurt. "Do-don't talk so loud y-you may bring them back," he said and Bilbo moved behind the bodies to find Hamfast with his fingers smashed in on one hand, and a dagger stuck right near his heart. When Bilbo squinted his tear filled eyes though, there were actually several dagger wounds. Blood filled his clothes and drenched them in a disturbing and gut wrenching red.

"Hamfast," Bilbo said in concern.

"I'll go get help," Hamfast took his arm before he could go, "No," Hamfast said haughtily. Bilbo looked down at him with tears. He couldn't understand why he would want that. "Why, you are hurt. I need to get help. We have to heal you." Hamfast shook his head, a small, content smile on his face.

"No, there is no healing me. I'm dead." His brother grunted as pain went through his spine. Bilbo wouldn't believe it even as the blood corrupted his hands and soaked his clothes. "No, no, no, no," Bilbo repeated as he put his hands in his hair. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to be home training now, his mother awake, scolding him.

He was supposed to be going to bed hungry for running away, but trying to explain it to no avail. His father's gentle gaze should be on him as he gave him water to sleep. He would wake up. This was a dream, and he'd wake up surely. But as he opened his eyes Hamfast was still dying. This wasn't a dream and all he had left was his brother. He couldn't die. This couldn't be real, the hobbit kept repeating, but it was and he would believe it soon enough.

"No, you won't die," he told Hamfast but the hobbit smirked. His brother was also so damned stubborn the hobbit thought. He slowly raised his hand; touching Bilbo's scrunched up face in comfort. "St-stop," Hamfast said and Bilbo did. He looked at his brother and he stopped closing his eyes. He listened to the older boy.

Hamfast let his hand fall from his brother's face as the young one let reality cloud his mind. Bilbo looked down at his brother with red eyes. Tears coming down none stop as they fell on Hamfast's shirt.

His brother had a little smile on his face, trying, even in his state, to comfort his younger brother. Even as the pain surged through his body and pain overcame him the brother still gave him a sense of warmth. He needed to be there for his brother, but slowly he felt himself going numb. His body was shutting down.

"Bilbo," he said urgently, getting the young hobbit's attention. "I need you to do something," Bilbo took Hamfast's hand and nodded as his tears still fell, but he'd do what Hamfast wanted. It was his dying wish. "Yes anything, anything." He repeated. Hamfast smirked at his little brother.

_I wish I didn't have to leave you alone._

"I need you to run, I need you to pack some things and run." Bilbo looked dumb founded at his brother. "Why do I need to run?" Hamfast shook his head "No time Bilbo. The Orcs, they'll be back. They'll kill you. You are not safe in Halcyon anymore. Not even Andwise could stop them or mother because there were too many. They will be back, you need to run." He said rabidly as he grimaced, but he talked to his brother for the last time.

"Please Bilbo, for me. Please run for me." Hamfast said as much as he could, but his vision was fading and his hands were going numb. Death would soon take over his body and he would have to leave his brother.

"Get some things and run," Hamfast said as a tear escaped his bloodied face. Bilbo stared into his brown eyes. He held his hand tightly, thinking if he just hoped and held on it would be different.

The young hobbit nodded, "Okay I'll do it. I'll run. I'll go." His brother smiled at him as another tear fell from his brother's eye. The younger hobbit held on to his hand and clutched it tightly. He wasn't ready for this. He wasn't prepared for this.

"Be safe, Bilbo, be safe," Bilbo's brother said and Bilbo nodded as he held his hand closing his eyes but then the hand went limp. The muscles in it, the bones, seemed to stop working. The hand was still a bit warm even in the cold night breeze.

The hobbit opened his eyes. His brother's face stayed still. Hamfast's eyes were open and a tear rolled down his face. His mouth was slightly a jarred, with chapped lips as he looked up at the ceiling. His curly brown hair lay around him with a sickening red, tainting the curly threads. The color of his face was white, and his hands lay sprawled at his side and above him, with a velvet color that had an eerie look to them as the moon touched the skin, which was pale. The older hobbit stared up into death's gaze, embracing death in a finally and eternal hug. Bilbo let his hand go and it did not stop its self. It fell to the floor with a thud. "Hamfast," he said, but he wasn't getting a response. Hamfast was dead and he was left alone, alone with the world, and a promise.


	8. Chapter 8

A figure in the dark darted towards the fields, running through brush and bush as his feet took off in urgency. Supplies bumped around on his back as his swift moves rustled them.

Noises could be heard of howling and barking that echoed through the night. Behind the figure were dog like creatures that appeared black and terrifying under the light of the moon. beings rode on the back of these monstrous things as they shouted to each other, aiming their sights on the figure as it moved around. The small one's body trembled with fear as he ran, passing trees and rocks as he stomped his feet on the ground and eyes fixed on the path before him. The creatures behind him shouted in their dark language. _**Kill him** _they commanded each other, with hate in their eyes and smirks on their faces. The hobbit heard them gaining on him. It was only a matter of minutes if not moments before they were there in front of him.

Fear and adrenaline passed through the hobbit's system as his feet tried to pick up the pace. As he tried to out run them, but he'd never be able to. His heart raced as he peered back, looking at the brown furred beings in fright. They were moments away and the small one's feet hurt he couldn't go on for much longer. He'd collapse.

_Roar_

The hobbit heard noises from behind him, and he quickly turned around to see a man facing down these Orcs and Wargs. It was the man from earlier. The one who gave him the knife. "Go, Bilbo! Run!" The man said as he fought off the three Orcs. Bilbo felt tempted to go to the man's aid, but then words reached his ears.

_Be safe, Bilbo, be safe_

"Run!" He heard the man say again and Bilbo ran. He ran as fast as he could and as far as he could. He never looked back.


	9. Chapter 9

**Years later...**

In the year of 2941,

Westward of the Ruhn sea, and far past the land of shadow, Lake Town and the Lonely Mountain. Forward away from the land of Mirkwood and Gondor; lay the land of Eriador, the lost realm of Arnor, The lost kingdoms of Cardolan, Rhudaur, and Arthedain. In the Witch King's land of Angmar, in those lands lay a story that some knew, but not as intimately as the one who lay reminiscing while gazing over the land.

A creature stood on a cliff side with his long black hair flowing in the slight breeze that came across the lands. It swept his braids from his form and let them glide through the air as he stood as still as a rock. His gaze was never faltering and his stature was as still as stone. He was adorned with a brown fur trimmed black leather coat and armor that looked like that of a diamond shape turned metal, which lay over a large blue undershirt with a collar.

Both the armor and shirt were covered by a thick blue sleeveless coat, and they were all put in place by a belt with a buckle that was diamond shaped, but rose to become a three pointed crown figure. His brown pants were tucked into his large fur boots that helped him during cold nights and winters. His bracers were brown and carved with a dwarfish style and his sword was at his side, with its holder still securely on his belt.

He looked like that of a dwarf warrior, and rightly so for he was one and always will be. He was a warrior for his hearth and home, but not just for his family for he was one of noble blood. He was from the very line of Durin, and many could decipher this if they just looked at him. He held the wardrobe of a king, and the demeanor of one who was burden with not just his own life, but the lives of those he needed to protect and fight for.

Yes, he was of noble blood, the very blood of Durin.

He was responsible for his people since he was birthed in the Lonely Mountain, and raised to become a king. But this dwarf had once been a prince as usually all who sat on thrones used to be. He used to be a prince that had a country, but now it all lay in the minds and pasts of dwarfs, written in tomes and observed from afar. It lay in ashes and tombs, with a sleeping dragon and a hoard of gold.

The dwarf looked over the lands of Middle-earth with cold blue eyes, never blinking, and he watched as the sun set over the horizon, mixing blue with the colors of purple, red and pink. The sun spread its glow over the trees and fields, letting shadows be cast where it pleased to hide creatures and other foul things from sight. The being reminisced on past memories, and thought back on the days he walked through stone green halls, filled with the light of yellow glows, and sounds of clanking hammers. The days he walked down endless stairs and was met with jewels and precious metals of all kinds. In the days of yore when all dwarfs had to think of was what they were doing tomorrow, and no worries of orcs came or too many woes of lost ones finished before their time.

His mind wandered to days that he walked down to a city with towers and mumbling voices that all stopped to bow to him and say his name with praise. The children of men that played in the streets and the trading of dwarfs that sounded in the pathways of cement and bricks, with the decorations of working women and men that pranced around with smiles.

He thought back on the sound of his kin singing their merry songs with zeal on their faces. Not a worry in the world, and the only woe was of ale running out. A slight smile appeared on his face. Such days were compiled with laughter and contentment.

In the past of his life it seemed like his future could just stretch out. In those times he could capture those distant stars above that seemed so far out of reach, but just in his grasp. That path was snuffed out though, when a heat that did not dwell with in the mountain came and spread red, orange and yellow into the sky, smoldering it into black smoke.

His mind then drifted on darker memories. They filled with the people he lost in the blazing flames, and the thousands that fell when the Drake came. His mind thought back to when the underworld opened its gates for the hundreds. The reminiscing dwarf's head fell in somberness as his thoughts grew darker and darker, reaching further into the far off past.

His breathing was faint as he thought of the wildfire. He recalled the unbearable heat of it and the screams of his people burning in it. The feeling of earthquakes that shook the ground from heavy weight that rippled through Erobor, and cascaded deep in the earth evoked within him.

And soon he felt that sting of stark betrayal as his past beckoned him into the unforgivable memory. It called for him to remember the sting of his kin being left out in the cold with no help from a race he thought had dignity and honesty woven into their skin, but it seemed like promises were kept in short that day. That betrayal was a wound against him that dug deep into his soul. It buried hatred in him for a race and for a person he could never forgive and he could never forget.

Not when he saw the desolation that the fire within the mountain caused. He could not forgive when he saw little children around him, screaming for their dead mothers or fathers. He could never forget when he remembered the dead that lay buried under each other in their last breaths, trying and struggling to get to shelter. He would never let this slip from memory. He saw his people become widows, and loose dear ones that they howled and cried mournfully for in the nights. He saw his people drop by burns that would hold no mercy for a quick death. He would never ever forgive that.

As the cruel years moved on and the harsh conditions only worsened, that fire of ire only burned into a forest. Then his hate transformed into an erupting mountain of pure heat and scathing liquid. His hammer was strong and his back was burdened as he hacked at shaping metal to quell his anger and earn a coin. As the heat of the furnace was at his back and the heat within his body built in blocks; he could not do anything but think about the treachery that he would always remember.

For when his people lay in ruin and his home was taken, how could any ask for him to forgive such a thing?

He wouldn't and he couldn't.

As the memories of the following years came and the Blue Mountains gleamed in his memory, he thought about seeing those gagged hills that stretched to the sky, with white peaks and glittering snow.

It was their home now.

At least until Erobor was theirs again.

But tragedy followed those who looked for it. War was a beat of a drum he was growing familiar with, and that rhythm beat within him as the call for war echoed throughout the mountain of blue. The echo and roar for Moria that his grandfather encouraged their ilk to take charge of, and to lift its rule of the orcs, despite the warning for Durinsfolk in those twisting caverns.

For within the depths of Moria lay Durin's Bane.

The Balrog, but it had been many years; surely the spawn of Morgoth had moved as it had once done before after its master's fall. The thought of the grand city that was Khazad-dûm, the mightiest and most beautiful of the dwarf kingdom's, being brought back sent a thrill and a courage through many of the dwarves to go and reclaim this homeland of yore.

But the dwarf king did not go there for hearth and home, but for gold and mithril, for gems. For Khazad-dûm was known for its immense wealth and deep treasures of silver mithril that ran through the mountain as if it were the very veins of it. They marched upon the lands, to the gates of Moria itself, only to be met by ruin.

Now he couldn't stop from thinking back to the war. His thoughts evoked the memories of the carnivorous and unrelenting battle, of that war that stayed in his dreams and haunted him over and over at night.

The war of Moria had taken many things from the creature. It had taken what he had left within himself. It had taken the things he wanted to keep close, and ripped them from him like a child being torn from their mother's safe embrace. All of his thoughts of a happy life diminished and were left to fester in the scathing heat of the sun and be destroyed by the clashes of sword and skin.

A vicious creature flashed through his mind as he remembered the clanking of metal and banging of the war drums inside Moria. He recalled the stench of blood and the war drums beat that kept going on and on. He remembered the sound of it like the beating of his heart. It ran shivers up his spine each time he thought of it.

Then the memory of the murder of his grandfather reached him finally. His face was bloody and sweat poured off of him, mixing with his red liquid blood. He was exhausted, but adrenaline pushed him on and the need to survive moved him on and on. But then, all the sudden, he hears a roar that breaks him away from his opponent who lay dead now. And he watches as his grandfather's head is held high up in the air like a trophy. He could vividly see the head of his deceased grandfather that was held up high above the Orc in mocking and brazen torment. The once long gray strands were cut along with his head. They were merged with the sickening red and black blood of orcs and men alike. His crown was still adorned and his once blue eyes now stared up in terror and shock as it held his last expression. Then the head was tossed to the ground and at his very feet as if it were a meager stone.

His blood filled with Ire at the disgrace that the pale Orc had put on the Durin line. He slashed and hacked at the Orc, roaring in vengeance and hatred. But he was struck, and surely the dwarf prince would now die. But when he was on the ground and death flashed before him, his head turned to a wooden log, it was not big and it was not small, but it was just right for him.

This meager thing that could be used for fire, which could be used for a house, was used for a much nobler deed. The man picked it up, wielding the oaken branch as a shield from the pale Orc's mace. Until finally, he felt the hilt of a sword, and then with a defiant strike, the beast's left hand fell, severed from its body. A horrifying screaming stretched over the armies as the orc fell and was dragged back into Moria's depths, while the dwarfs fought off the rest of the orcs.

And though that small victory was won that war had no songs sung, and no feast served. Many had died, too many, including his brother Frerin, which he mourned deeply. He loved his brother and grandfather so much and to have them both gone felt like a stab in the heart from the knife of a friend. Both were dead now and there was nothing he could do about it, nothing he could do at all. And that made him feel like the most helpless creature of them all.

He forever remembered those ghastly times and scenes while he dreamed of those haunting halls.

The once prince, now king, had lost people over the rest of the years. He had lost his father, to where he does not know, and he went off searching for the mad dwarf. But when he was looking for his lost father; he met a wizard and a chance to reclaim that which had haunted him, and passed through his mind like a fond lover or a dream of a world where things were not so harsh or difficult. Back in his halls of emerald and yellow gold, with loving sounds and the hammering of metal. He was given a chance to reclaim Erobor. And he would, even if he died trying.

The once prince, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror returned to the present. Soon the past was buried, but not forgot, in his mind. The creature, Azog, the defiler, did not register now, Thranduil, the elven King, did not matter, and, the greatest calamity of his life, the dragon Smaug would be dealt with.

With his thoughts of past woes pushed aside, he was brought back to the cold of the night falling, and the realization of the time that had befallen him. The dwarf king then heard the footsteps of one of his kin coming up slowly behind him.

"Thorin," the dwarf called, "Dinner's ready," he said, going towards the other with care as he knew what the king must be thinking about. The stilled dwarf turned around leaving the beautiful and majestic scene behind. "Thank you, Balin," he retorted and began to walk back to the group of dwarfs when a hand stopped him. It grabbed his arm and held him still.

The dwarf king looked at the large hand that lay on him then back to his old friend who had a knowing gaze upon his face. His pure white beard and long red robes, made him seem like a scholarly dwarf. He looked like one who was educated and old enough to give lessons to those who needed it. He stared at the dwarf with words on his mind.

"Thorin," the elder dwarf voiced with concern in his tone, "you should know that you do not have to do this. You have done well and just by our people. If you do not go, there shall be no shame. Some things are best left to the past no matter how much we love or care for them." Balin eyed the dwarf as he confessed his worries and concerns about his king. He had fear for what this journey may hold, and if they would even succeed. For the road was long, and many hidden dangers lay ahead, anything could happen to their king, anything at all. He shook his head as he looked to Thorin.

"You do not have to do this." Thorin was about to speak and voice the things he had boiling within him, but Balin held his hand up and shook his head, signaling he was not finished. And the king was not disgruntled, and he let his old friend voice his lesson and fear for him.

"If this is for pride, put that aside. And if it is for your people, remember who they look to. But most of all, remember the cost that your life has on our people's heads and on your family's." he said this in a stern voice as he looked to Thorin and made sure the dwarf did not toss these words of wisdom aside like he did so many other things. Balin wanted him to understand what he was doing, what he was doing to his people and those around him. He did not have to do any of this. But he did it any ways, be it by his line or by his choice, he still never was asked of this.

The older dwarf looked to him. "Your life holds something precious to our kin and other folk, do not take in account your line over your people. For they are the thing that makes you king, consider that." Balin met Thorin's scrutinizing blue eyes. The dwarf king did not answer back or reply. He only nodded, showing that he listened to the wise elder and would consider his words.

Balin sighed as he noticed the gesture for what it was. He then swiftly moved away and left him with those words that lay heavily on the king's mind. He had thought of most of the things that Balin had said, but the last thing he voiced was the piece of advice he had not thought of.

He knew that his people needed him, but he had not considered what could become of his people if he should fail. He would think that Fili or KIli would then lead them if he fell, but what if they fell? Then Dain Ironfoot would take the Blue Mountains or someone from there would. But most of all what would become of his family? What would become of Dis? She would be heart broken, and she would die of grief if they all fell. His people would be similarly sadden and put in a deep depression. They would mourn him with great sorrow if he fell.

But he was pulled to go to Erobor when there was a wizard at his side, and the opportunity came upon him. He had to go, for there may never be a time like this one to go. This opportunity to reclaim Erobor may be the thing he needs for his people no matter the risk. He had to try and make his way to the mountain, because if he didn't, then maybe no one ever will.

The portents say it is time, and others may be lurking and skulking about for the treasure within. He could not risk it to be left unguarded if Smaug was no longer with the gold. He had to no matter what may befall his people or Dis. This quest was too important. And if they succeeded, it would out weight the consequences of if they did not succeed.

There was no choice. There was no choice for him.

Thorin looked off into the now dark blue sky, with twinkling silver stars. Only a small smidgen of the day's light left. The king looked upon the land as shadows grew larger and the dark of the night crept behind him like a cloak.

"I have to," Thorin said as he thought back on the elder's words.

_I have to do this._

The dwarf let a sigh escape him and his gaze glanced up at the last few seconds of light. He was then tempted and he reached out to the last glow of day, which began to crawl up his body and into oblivion. He reached for it.

"I'll find you once again," he said as he closed his fist around it, and the light escaped his grasp as it went over his head and into the darkness. The glare then vanished into the forgotten past day to be swallowed by the present night. The moon then rose opposite of the sun falling, hovering over the creatures of middle earth, with its white glow. The king looked across the land one last time before he went back to his company of dwarfs.

_I'll find you once again._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Yay! Okay so after this point it will be going from past to present. We will see Bilbo gradually getting older, moving around Middle-earth and learning things about the land, and then we will see him in the present with the dwarfs. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, even though it may have been a bit unnecessary. Since it is so, I will give to you the next chapter, because this one doesn't have much. Chapter 11 is where the real fun begins. But you'll have to wait. :D :P Love you all! Oh, and update every Monday or at least I will try to.

**Sorry for not updating it sooner. I forgot. :/**


	10. Chapter 10

A figure in the dark darted towards the fields, running through brush and bush as his feet took off in urgency. Supplies bumped around on his back as his swift moves rustled them.

Noises could be heard of howling and barking that echoed through the night. Behind the figure were dog like creatures that appeared black and terrifying under the light of the moon. beings rode on the back of these monstrous things as they shouted to each other, aiming their sights on the figure as it moved around. The small one's body trembled with fear as he ran, passing trees and rocks as he stomped his feet on the ground and eyes fixed on the path before him. The creatures behind him shouted in their dark language. _**Kill him** _they commanded each other, with hate in their eyes and smirks on their faces. The hobbit heard them gaining on him. It was only a matter of minutes if not moments before they were there in front of him.

Fear and adrenaline passed through the hobbit's system as his feet tried to pick up the pace. As he tried to out run them, but he'd never be able to. His heart raced as he peered back, looking at the brown furred beings in fright. They were moments away and the small one's feet hurt he couldn't go on for much longer. He'd collapse.

_Roar_

The hobbit heard noises from behind him, and he quickly turned around to see a man facing down these Orcs and Wargs. It was the man from earlier. The one who gave him the knife. "Go, Bilbo! Run!" The man said as he fought off the three Orcs. Bilbo felt tempted to go to the man's aid, but then words reached his ears.

_Be safe, Bilbo, be safe_

"Run!" He heard the man say again and Bilbo ran. He ran as fast as he could and as far as he could. He never looked back.


	11. Chapter 11

**Year of 2941**

The night fell upon the land and all that could be seen was lit up by the moon's glow. Shade and shadow spread across the night as the light cast along the surface playing its tricks in the darkness. But deep into the woods you could see a glowing flame, with a yellow color to it that cast its light upon trees and grass alike, spreading more shadows, and giving light to creatures that had none.

A voice came from the fire frightening some at the deep tenor voice that vibrated in the night to their small or large ears, scaring some away and drawing some nearer to the glow.

**Far over the Misty Mountains' cold to dungeons deep and caverns old**

**We must away 'ere break of day to find our long forgotten gold**

The sound was enchanting and yet held such sadness that it touched souls so, and made you move to the motion put inside the song. These creatures who sung with an enchanting and histrionic voice drew some to the camp site in awe and melancholy. They listened to the sound of heartbreak and home ache.

**The pines were roaring on the height, the winds were moaning in the night**

**The fire was red, it flaming spread, the trees like torches blazed with light**

They could almost hear those cries that descended on that night, the women screaming in woeful tears and the men crying over the many gone. It was whispered in between the cracks of the fire and the notes of the dwarfs as they reached a high note of sadness.

Then the small verse ended as yawns were heard and the solemn beings rested their tired and frigid bones. They curled into their blankets for the night and tucked themselves away against the slight chill that the Misty Mountains brought from the long distance. Dwarves lay in their beds as the fire they had gave them warmth, and they slept on the hard ground and misshapen earth. Then after a while, the sounds of snoring and content hums came as they succumbed to the dreams in sleep.

They lay beneath the sky of stars as some slept with dreams of home and hearth. But a couple kept a watchful eye over the others as they let them sleep. The two guarded over them with sleepy eyes and tired bodies, but they were accustomed to the feeling and would not doze off in the hours of the night, until it was someone else's turn to keep watch.

The land they settled on was a good spot. It overlooked most of the valley they would be traveling in and gave light to it. A jagged cliff lay just a few feet away from their camp, cascading down to the deep wooded forest that held shelter, and a home to multitudes of beings.

The light of their fire attracted some. Around their camp many unspoken things lurked near them. Some were dangerous while others were of another nature.

Down the cliff side and in the pitch of the dense forest lay one such being, which had been drawn by the song and by the fire. It was a creature, smaller than that of dwarves and quieter than that of any other race. It wisped through the trees and the land, creeping nearer to the fire. Dressed in the color of the evening, it walked with cautious grace through the woods, startling nothing to its presence or its intentions. Nearer and nearer it reached the camp, observing the dwarves and their items with keen eyes.

The intruder crept close to the fire and watched the Company sleep. He kept alert eyes on the two dwarfs that guarded the rest of the group. But they were blinded in some places, and at different intervals they broke into conversation with each other. In those times this being would move about with his dark cloak, and scour around, picking at what lay where.

He meticulously stepped and slithered over the men of this traveling company. He picked at their pockets, with care as not to wake them, while he had eyes on the two dwarfs that looked rather young. He prodded at the pockets, and when the two looked up he'd quickly lay down with the others as if he were one of the dwarfs. They did not question it or even really notice the added body that lay on the ground.

So instead of yelling and shouting, they went back to looking over the rest of the group. The creature lay behind a large dwarf now who had a fur trimmed, short sleeved coat that was the color of the tree leaves in spring. He had knuckle dusters with two flaps almost in diamond shape with an outlining just on the edge of the shape. His pants and boots were brown and boots.

He had tattoos all over his bald head and arms. The dwarf also had bulging muscles that could have easily outweighed the small creatures own. He looked like that of a sturdy warrior; he no doubt had seen many battles and fought in a couple of wars even. His face was not young, but old with the harsh years apparent on it. In sleep though, he seemed to find some peace, but the lines of worry were still traceable.

The creature's mind was not on his attire or his face; it was caught by a foul smell that came from the dwarf. The intruder was half-tempted to gag at the ghastly scent.

_Do these dwarfs not know of a bath?_

The robber cautiously looked over the dwarf, ignoring the smell as best he could, to see that the other two were not there as of now. They could have gone off to the woods or somewhere else for wood or to relieve themselves. He looked around the camp with a slow motion and wary eyes before he found it was clear and crawled over to one of the dwarfs. He would rather not try to steal from the warrior. He had learned that those who have fought in battle have reflexes and instincts that should not be tested.

The thief crawled on his belly, feeling the dirt and small rocks that rubbed against it as he had a light short sleeved shirt on. His body was used to harsh terrain though. It had grown hard against the winds of the earth and the solid, uncaring land of it. He held many scars and scratches on his stomach and body that did not weaken him, but make him stronger than before. His forearms felt the harsh rocks scrape against his skin as he tried to keep quiet as not to alert any of the sleeping company or the dwarfs who had left for whatever reason.

The dwarf, he traveled over to, looked like he was younger than the rest. He was probably seventy or eighty years old. It was young for dwarfs as they lived around three hundred to three hundred and fifty years. This dwarf was like that of a child to most of the company who all seemed well over a hundred if not that of two hundred. The only ones that would be close to this dwarf's age would be the two who had left. Still, he was the youngest. He had smaller clothing, due to his short stature, but still taller than the burglar's own, and had a long, but slightly short, beard that was a dirty blonde color or brown. He had gray robes, with a satchel to his side that was probably not filled with weapons as it seemed that this dwarf was less of one of the swords and more a dwarf of the large tomes as he held one in his arms. He looked like an educated and well written dwarf surely not the kind you see traveling with too many warriors. But the thief did not question it as many had their reasons for doing what they did.

The burglar stayed low watching out for the two dwarfs while he dug in the younger dwarf's satchel, which he realized had feather pens, ink and other utensils for writing on the outside. The contents of the satchel had a few things in them. There was a badly made slingshot, and some little trinket that was not of gold but wood.

Reaching further down the dwarf's satchel, the burglar's hands were soon met with a bag of metal. At the find he couldn't help but pull a devilish smirk under his mask of pitch. The intruder took the wallet swiftly and opened a bag on his belt. He opened the dwarf's bag seeing as there wasn't much and dropped the coins in to the other, but first wrapping them each in a sticky small cloth so they made no noise.

"See," the burglar lied down as he heard the dwarfs saying something. The dwarfs had arrived, coming back with smiles on their faces as they carried more wood for the fire and a dead squirrel for meat. The raven haired dwarf had a gleaming smile on his face as he looked at the squirrel with his bow strapped on his back. It was clear he shot the squirrel. A blonde haired dwarf rolled his eyes, but still smiled at his friend as they continued to speak in.

"Drop the squirrel." The one said. "Fine, but you owe me. I told you I could shoot it." They went to talking back and forth over the bet they apparently made on whether or not the raven haired dwarf could shoot the furry creature.

The two were looking off into the opposite direction, while talking with their heated discussion. And the robber took the opportunity; he crawled on his belly to another dwarf. The one he crawled to, in very cautious moves, had red hair that was brushed back like a lion's mane. His beard had several beads and little braids to accompany them. He had three coats on, all of a different length and style, but with the same velvet red. His clothes were faded slightly and dirty from many nights of lying on his back and looking up at stars, or working in his mountains mines. The burglar lay down next to him, on his side, and once again he picked at the satchels. To his astonishment, the burglar felt a full bag of coins. He pulled the bag out and tucked his hand quickly to his side, lying still for a few moments before he was sure the two dwarfs did not hear him. But as their argument still ragged on it seemed that was unlikely.

After a while, the burglar had looked down at the small bag in his hands and wondered how many coins were exactly in there. At the temptation, he gave in; only sparing a few seconds for he knew that time was short. He needed to get out and be gone before they realized one more member had joined their group of dwarves.

The robber set the bag down slowly, so the coins did not rattle, and untied the thin rope. Inside he found a wad of coins in them, too many to count. The mugger smiled in glee as he stashed them away in his bag of clothes, applying the sticky sheets to them. He then swiftly and patiently moved back on his belly. He was careful not to let the coins give him away, as the cloth only did so much, when he moved so the two did not see or notice him.

Their heated discussion had died down and now they were taking silently to each other. He dared a look. As he glanced at them, they were turned to the other side of the group as one of the other members were sucking in butterflies as he slept, snoring rather loudly. They two chuckled and laughed, but not loud enough to wake the other.

The robber crawled over to another dwarf as fast as and as silent as he could.

This one had black hair with a few strands of grey springing out of it. His head lay back on a rock as he slept silently with his hands at his sides and features drawn back into a peaceful rest. But as the other warrior he had seen had wrinkles of worry spread onto his face, so did the dwarf here. Except his were still noticeable, even if sleep eased what woes had traced the wrinkles of worry and grief. He looked to still be brooding even in his rest about his past and whatever untold sorrows lay within it. But they burglar did not take his features into account or anything else much about him. He kept his eyes on the goal. The fact that the dwarf was a warrior made the thief hesitant, but he had the look of a king or someone of a high status. It would be likely to theorize that he had more gold than the other dwarfs here. He thought on this as the warrior lay in his rest, unmoving and as still as the stone he was born from.

He would risk it.

The thief looked over him again and thought that he was actually handsome, for a dwarf, but he didn't fuss over it too much. He quickly searched the handsome dwarf with steady hands - always keen on not disturbing his peaceful sleep.

He careful picked at his pockets while looking over at the other dwarfs who were now looking off at the cliff that lay on the opposite side from where he was. The thief moved his hands down a little further and watched them, but as he did so he felt the handsome one stir in his sleep. Not good. He hid behind a rock, taking his hand out of the pocket. He hoped to the Valar that the young dwarfs had not seen or heard him. If they did, they would surely come to investigate.

He held his hand over his dagger as he waited for a sign.

"Think he's having a bad dream?" One of them asked concerned.

"Yeah, maybe,"

"Do you think we should wake him?"

After a while the other dwarf considered and retorted. "No," and the burglar almost sighed in relief if it wasn't for his need of silence, "let him get his rest. If he gets any worse, then we'll wake him."

The creature heard as the two started to go back to talking. He then went back to the task he had at hand and started back at poking at the pockets of the dwarf. But there was nothing that lay in his pocket, it was as barren as they northern waste. They thief, disgruntled, began to slowly, and with extra caution, look under the shirt of the dwarf and the coat.

Eventually he found the bag on the dwarf's under belt that held his shirt and under coat in place. He felt the knot that had been laced with an expertise grip. It was made out of melt so that only a dwarf of strength may bend it or that of a furnace. This one was prepared for a burglar to steal his coins. No doubt being a dwarf he had come upon the intruder's ilk before. But the thief had his ways as he too had encountered many who took precaution. He took his blade out and kissed it, whispering to it with gentleness like a lover would.

He then put it just under the rope that kept it tied and whispered to it in a language these dwarfs knew not of. The knife cut away the very melt that held it there. He praised the knife and slid it away as he took the coins away from the black haired dwarf.

But then, a hand reached out to grab his. "What are you doing?" the dwarf asked groggily. The burglar held his breath in fear. He had not heard the dwarf stir nor had he heard the dwarf awaken or give a sign he had felt his intrusion. But none the less, he was caught in the dwarf's grip and as of now it was useless to try to pull away from it and make a break. He was not strong enough to take his hand away from a dwarf's grip.

So the burglar waited, caught red handed, and braced for what would surely come.

"Kîli," the dwarf called and the burglar's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he stayed behind the rock, out of sight of the dwarf. "You're supposed to be watching the group, go do that. I'll give you some money tomorrow." He said and let the burglar's hand go, but not before taking his bag from his hand and putting it away in his pocket, a hand hovering over the pocket now, keeping it safe.

The thief was a little dumbfounded as his mouth was gaped open in utter shock. But he closed his mouth shaking his head. Someone was testing his luck tonight for sure. The burglar then quickly noticed that the two dwarfs were looking towards them. He cursed himself in his mind as he thought the dwarfs had seen him, or at least his hand, but they said nothing and did nothing as the minutes passed. His heart still thumped in his chest as the thrill and fear of being caught coursed through him. Soon enough they moved their gazes elsewhere though.

They must not have heard him, he had thought.

The thief moved away from that dwarf with relief washing over his body and loosening his once tense bones. He decided that he was risking too much and that he had more than enough already. He had a very sufficient amount of coins now he need not risk giving them back to the dwarfs. If he took anymore, it would just be foolish and greedy. Too many risks landed you in places and troubles that he would rather not be in. He had enough of that for a life time. So he waited, for a while, in the silence of the night with adrenaline in his veins. He looked at the two dwarfs and waited for a time he could slip past them.

But seemed to gleam and open for him. Instead the minutes ticked by and each minute risked them finding him out or the dwarfs awakening from their slumber.

Then the sound of an orc came. The screeching noise was enough to make the creature cringe and boil with rage at the same time. He hated orcs. He hated them more than even some of the dwarfs hated them. His grip tightened on his blade absentmindedly as memories of screeches reached his mind and prodded it.

The dwarfs had the same reactions, but the others did not awaken to the sound of the orc's howl. They laid on their backs and sides in the bliss of their dreams. Then the raven haired dwarf moved over to the cliff as he looked over the land, with his grip tight on his sword. The blonde haired dwarf then followed shortly after.

Another screech sounded then this one louder and worse.

The burglar knew what that meant and so did the dwarfs. There was a pack of them on wargs scurrying about on the low lands, slitting throats and leaving nothing but blood and guts to be mourned and grieved by the morning sun.

At the distraction, he crawled over to the tattooed dwarf with ease as he crept, ready to stop all movement and lay his head down as one of the company. But the dwarfs never turned until he just made it to the large dwarf's backside. Thankfully, he was guarded by the large stature of the dwarf. The two walked back mumbling incoherently to each other.

And as they did the burglar realized he was facing the warrior's boots, which were insufficient at guarding his head and were dirtier than the rest of his body by far. With ease he switched his position quickly before the dwarfs resumed in their place. But as he switched his position, he made a sound, a sound of rocks being moved to quickly and immediately he kept quiet as he faced the dwarf with the bald head.

All talk from the two quelled as they no doubt looked over the camp for something suspicious.

Footsteps then sounded as a dwarf moved over to where they heard a sound. They grew closer and with every step the burglar grew stiff and anxious. He clutched his knife in his hands. His heart pounded in his chest as he mentally prepared to make a break for it, and hopefully not get caught by the dwarfs. The steps stopped short of where the burglar was though as the other dwarf spoke up. "What are you doing?" It asked the other who seemed a little determined at looking for the cause of the sound he had made.

"I could have sworn I saw something Kîli. I mean you heard that sound, right?" a voice said and the burglar mentally groaned. He might have to make a break for it. That was quickly changed though as he heard the two dwarfs voices.

"No, Fili, don't wake them. It wasn't an Orc. It could have been anything really, surely not a troll though." The other one expressed as he dismissed his friends worries. "Don't fuss over it" KÎli, the burglar guessed, was the one with dark hair. He eased his friend's worries.

The dwarf, Fîli as it were, stopped his looking around with a sigh. "Okay," the dwarf said with suspicion on his voice, but he still walked away from where the burglar lay. The robber internally sighed with relief as the crisis was averted. He could not stay here though, as things could surely escalate into a situation and things he would not like to encounter.

But then the next catastrophe happened.

The dwarf warrior he lay by turned around in his sleep and in a slumber he grabbed the burglar, wrapping on arm around his waist as if he were a girl to cuddle up with. The thief stayed still as he knew that he was done for.

The dwarf squeezed him. "It's okay girlie," the dwarf mumbled as he held the mugger tightly. Staring out wide eyed in confusion and shock he awaited for the dwarf to wake up. But the warrior he thought was sensitive in what was around him, and observant even in his sleeping state just lay there with his arm over the small creature and a smug smile on his face as he sniffed him, nuzzling his face between his neck and shoulder.

_Oh, Mahal_

"Mmm, hehe," The burglar groaned in his head as the dwarf hummed sounds of amusement in his ear. The thief then cursed himself for not getting out of the camp earlier and being able to avoid this situation. He stayed as still as a deer caught by a hunter's gaze, while he thought of a plan to escape the dwarf's grasp and his slumbering movements. But then with a disgruntled noise the dwarf twisted to his side abruptly letting go of the creature in the process who breathed a sigh of relief as the dwarf laid back to rest without disturbance or knowledge of the thief that lay next to him.

He sighed to himself as he had turned to the fire and felt the warmth of it on his face while he was still held in his subconscious. The burglar that lay behind him now breathed out in ease as the crisis was averted in his favor, but he felt that the night was closing in tight on him, soon the sun would arise and they would awaken to find their money stolen and he did not plan on being there when that happened.

So the thief slowly peered over the dwarf very cautious as not to be seen by the two dwarfs that stayed alert, and watched over the ones who lay on their sides and backs in sleep. The creature was hidden by shadows that the fire cast for him and the night gave to him. He was able to see, with his head raised ever so slight over the resting dwarf, that the two were staring at the group now with more sternness then they had previously had. Now their eyes stalked over everything and looked upon the group with a gaze that seemed to be that of an ever watchful owl.

But they looked far away from where the creature was huddled behind the dwarf. He could escape with ease thanks to the dwarf's placement in the dark. But he was worried about the sounds he would make getting his escape under way. If he did not have shoes on and he was not on the ground, it would be an easy thing to do. But he had his leather shoes on and he lay on the ground curled behind the dwarf, and he was still in the tight situation because of it.

As it were though, the fates seemed to smile on the hobbit on this particular night as the sound of something cluttering around near the dwarfs seemed to catch their attention and they stood moving to whatever lay behind them and the burglar saw his chance as he quickly crawled away as the noise continued onwards and he started to stalk away on his feet once he reached the woods entrance. He watched the unsuspecting dwarfs looking the other way as he slipped back into the dark of the woods.

But just as the burglar was about to go on his way a voice stopped him, bellowing with a deep commanding tone. "And what are you doing, thief?" The robber frozen as his heart spiked up at the sound of the man who spoke to him. Quickly he turned around to be faced with a tall old man in grey robes, with a look of amusement and of disdain in his eyes.

The thief crouched down slightly as he went into a defensive stance, gripping the hilt of a blade behind his back as he saw the man he was face with, grunting to himself in his mind. The thief and the man stared at each other for long minutes as the thief started to make his way back, while he kept his eyes on the person who had caught him in his escape. But they broke their gaze on each other as a new pair of voices echoed to the creature's ears.

"Who are you?" The burglar's eyes wavered to the dwarfs as they held narrowed gazes of threats, standing up from their place, with their hands on their weapons as they slowly drew them from their holders, letting them gleam in the firelight, pointing them to the thief. The robber hissed at the two and the man before he took off, turning around and running into the woods with a head start.

"Wake up!" He heard the others call, and the burglar didn't spare a look behind as he took off with their treasure, growling to himself as he ran past trees and ducked under brushes or hopped over obstacles, trying his best not to falter and be caught by the dwarfs that would run him down if he did not think of something to do. Several shouts in Khuzdul and Westron were exchanged that he could hear as they were all startled awake.

"After him, he stole our money!" Someone found out, rather quicker than expected, and yells were then heard as they ran off in a rage. He could hear the curses and shouts of anger as the two dwarfs told them which way he had gone. The thief heard the stomping of dwarf feet from far behind him as they took to chasing him down the hill side.

He knew he couldn't outrun them though. There were too many of them and he doubted that they would quit for a long while. Plus, dawn was arriving soon and a few specks of light from the rising sun came through the forest. He did not have too much time or night left to guard his form. So he stopped for a second and looked around for something to hide in until the dwarfs passed. In his quick search he found a pine tree just a few paces away. Quickly he ran to it and climbed up the evergreen being sure to hold still as he stayed in the cover of the needle leaves. There was just enough darkness left for him to go unseen in the shadows and leaves of the tree.

He waited patiently in the trees, holding his breath in anticipation as he heard the roar of the dwarfs who chased after him. He watched in silence as they passed him shouting in their language as they raced after him in the opposite direction of where he actually was. He held on to the tree as he lay down on one of the branches, holding on tight, while they passed by him. The last of them finally passed by and when they did he sat up on the branch looking around with keen eyes to be sure that all the dwarfs had gone and none were lurking about. After a few minutes of training his eyes and ears to search for something in the dark he was met with nothing but the forests noises of creature and critters.

He climbed down the tree when he found no source of any dwarfs who might have stayed behind. As he landed on the ground he crouched down not trusting just yet that it was fully safe. He stayed there, by the pine tree, observing his surroundings making sure everything was clear, and as his suspicions began to falter and break away, slowly he stood, still crouching slightly, with his hand stretched out to the ground, and the other on his blade.

As he stood, he continued his search out of caution and turned around observing the shadows of the trees and the far reaches of the forest. When he found all was clear, he turned around making for his escape.

As the burglar was turning around ready to start running, he ran smack into a tall muscular figure. The thief cringed at the impact of the solid chest and he swiftly backed away from the being, while mentally cursing himself, with his hand to his blade crouching slightly in front of the dwarf. The burglar looked to this new obstacle to his freedom and recognized him as the dwarf who he had failed to steal from. He glared at the dwarf who slowly raised his sword to him as the thief backed up the being stepped forward with his sword aiming at the creature's neck, resulting in him having to lift his head so that the sword did not nick him in by his throat.

The dwarf smirked as he held the sword with the grace of an experienced warrior. "Well, thief," he spat out with venom, "I think you have something of ours." The burglar scowled at him as he felt the point of the sword grow dangerously close, while he continued to back up. But he would not turn around in fear of the sword slashing at his back and cutting his skin. So he stayed there eyeing the dwarf with a black look as they both stared at each other.

The dwarf and the thief were interrupted though by the call of another. "Thorin!" he shouted. "Don't hurt him!" The old man called out to his dwarf companion who turned his head at the sound of his friend who shouted from a far off distance that none could see.

As the split second of distraction appeared, the burglar then swiftly saw his opportunity and in the mere seconds that the dwarf had looked over his shoulder and realized his error the thief slipped from the tip of his sword and turned on his heel, running in a sprint only to be knocked down by another tall stature with an unwavering weight. The thief hit the ground with a thud as he ran into the stiff being. He quickly looked up to see the dwarf with the circular ring of stone and leather straps for his axes, standing over him, with glaring eyes and disdain in his stance.

"Girlie," the dwarf said and pointed his axe at the burglar who stalked up from his point glaring at the dwarf, waiting for a strike or a hit, but he did not move from his place. The burglar then soon heard other voices from around him, other sounds of rustling and disgruntled voices, and he could see, from the corners of his eyes, movement around him. He turned in a circle as he held the hilt of his blade, and found dwarfs everywhere as he stepped around in a circle. He was met by grim faces, glaring eyes and sharp weapons.

The thief groaned as he realized he was trapped.

_Damned dwarfs._

The dwarfs stayed in a circle around the burglar, with sharp edges pointed at him in all directions. He was completely surrounded by the dwarfs, and he wasn't going anywhere with their money. The thief growled at the dwarfs who blocked him on all sides, still handling his blade, not feeling that he needed it as of now he was just surrounded. But things could get ugly with dwarfs.

He was in his defensive position standing his ground as he looked over the dwarf's slowly, waiting for one of them to attack. But none did. They took to just staring at him rather than doing anything else. The burglar guessed they just wanted their coins, but with dwarfs there was always a price to pay for stealing.

That was why he generally never got caught by dwarfs until now.

"Hand over the coins," the handsome dwarf said as he stepped forward, with his weapon still out. The thief looked around with his eyes as he saw the disgruntled faces and the hard demeanors. He knew he wasn't getting out with these coins or escaping as they flanked all his sides and weren't letting up.

He was trapped completely and there was no way of escape.

So with slow hands he took the bag of coins off of his belt and cautiously gave it to the dwarf. The dwarf eyed him as he did so, and with suspicious hands he took the bag away from the thief. His sword was kept a safe distance away from the burglar, but near enough to do damage should the occasion arise.

The handsome dwarf then gave the coins to one of his dwarf companions who took it away with ease and greedy hands, accusing eyes on the burglar as he distributed the coins, but the handsome dwarf never took his eyes off the burglar. He kept watch on him like he was a fox tricky, cunning and able to leap off undetected if it need be.

He did not want the thief running away just yet.

The thief returned the stare tenfold as he gazed back with a glare.

But the being averted his gaze to the bag of coins as the dwarf that stood next to the handsome one, who was the dwarf with the blazing red beard and lion's mane that he had stolen from, distributed them, looking at the cloth with a curious gaze, but easily undid them from their soft cases. The dwarfs argued here and there about their sums of money, but they reached agreements in no time as they handed the money out and, with grabby hands and wanton in their eyes, took the gold coins.

The small creature that lay at the edge of sharp points and rounded blades mentally sighed as his last bits of coins were meshed in with the other ones that he had stolen. He cursed himself in his mind for not thinking of leaving them with his sword and bed roll.

He scowled at the red bearded dwarf as he distributed the coins and gave the other evenly among the ones he hadn't even stolen from. The banker, as the thief now called him, grinned down at him with a knowing look as he polished a coin, breathing on it and rubbing the surface clean with his robes, which he was sure was an extra of his original amount, and winked as he placed it in his pocket.

But the burglar's worry of the coins faltered as he instead grew unsteady as the pieces of gold were given back to the dwarfs. For when their gazes turned back to him what would they do? When their eyes of black lust for the yellow pieces were filled and the bags packed back to the similar amount they had been before, what would become of him?

He looked for ways out, but there was none, not unless he tried to create a distraction or saw an opening and neither were good or presenting themselves to him.  
>So instead he held Kalilâl's hilt and waited for something to take place.<p>

After the coins were distributed, the dwarfs then looked to each other, with the handsome dwarf still eyeing him suspiciously, with twitching fingers as he saw the burglar grab something behind his back. The dwarfs looked to each other and to the thief confused now of what to do.

"What do we do with him now?" A dwarf asked, and the thief looked to find the scribe there with a timid gaze and a gaze that held courage, but undeniable fear as the burglar gazed upon him with angry eyes. The scribe he had stolen from then let his gaze falter to the ground as he looked back at him and saw the ire in his eyes. The others wondered the same thing as well, though they did not express it as verbally as the Scribe did.

Another dwarf soon took up the discussion. "We should just teach him a lesson before he goes." The thief looked to the owner of the voice that had spoken. He had white braided hair that stretched over his face and had a straight bun that was at the back of his head. He looked like that of a delicate or regal dwarf, with manners and such, but the thief was not fooled as he saw the muscles that lay beneath the dwarf's attire. He could have easily been the strongest dwarf.

His mind was drawn away from analyzing the dwarf with the braided beard as the other dwarfs talked with each other about what to do with him.

"Why don't we rough him up just a bit?" One of the many dwarfs asked. The burglar looked over to see a dwarf that was huge and had fiery orange hair, with a large mustache for a beard and hair that was braided together at the ends that interlocked around his neck like that of a necklace. He wore a yellowish shirt and large pants to fit his big stature. He had on a coat and gray wool gloves to keep warm in the nights. But, most curiously, he carried a satchel on his person, much like the scribe. Though the thief doubted it was for writing. All in all, this dwarf was the handsomest dwarf in the group by dwarfish standards, and he no doubted had a wife and many children as well.

Then came in another dwarf, and this one the burglar knew.

"No, Bombur," said the dwarf Fîli, "I think he needs a permanent lesson and that is not something we should pass up." The dwarf seemed to snicker as he winked at him. The burglar scowled at the dwarf he remembered all too well as he had been one the couple who watched over the group and, if it hadn't been for that tall man, would have let a thief come in and go out with their gold.

The burglar observed this dwarf with a curious gaze.

Out away from the fire and the cloak of night, he actually looked like a very attractive dwarf. He had braids on their side of his mouth hanging down. He also had long locks of hair. The Thief noticed that he held more than one sword. He held two, one in each hand, which was rather odd, but it prompted him to be wary of the dwarf. He also noticed that the blonde wore a fur trimmed coat like that of his companion with the bald head, and mocking smile. As Bilbo looked closer though he saw how he held himself a little higher and his looks were a little sharper. Even with his joking manner there was something that weighed him down and made him puff out so others would not catch on to it. He held a responsibility for something.

He was burdened by something invisible. He was proud of it though.

"Fîli is right; we have an obligation to society to set this boy straight." This time an older dwarf with gray hair and a trumpet at his ear said this and cracked his neck in anticipation and intimidation of his prey. He handled spear like weapon and had long gray robes and wool grey gloves. He smiled down at the burglar, with cruel eyes.

"Why don't we just throw him against a tree a few times, that should rough him up a bit?" The Scribe said and the thief felt a little sigh at this recommendation to his punishment. It was far better than the other things that they were suggesting to do to him.

But then a familiar voice came bellowing across to the burglar's ears.

"I doubt it Ori," said the big muscular one who stepped forward, with his axe pointed at the burglar and a sneer on his face, "I think we should do more than that." His eyes narrowed and lips curved to a smirk as his mind went through the process of how he would exact a rueful vengeance upon the intruder who he had taken for a woman while under his dreams. The dwarf held a mocking smile as he cracked his knuckles, while the thief only gave him a wary and angered look.

"No, no, I say we get Gandalf to put a spell on him," the dwarf with dark haired said, Kîli -if the burglar remembered right. The thief noticed that this dwarf was actually rather handsome as well by men or elf standards. He had many layers on all mostly black or gray with blue mixed in and oddly enough he carried a bow, which is said to be an elfish weapon more than a dwarfish one. He had long hair that was pulled slightly by a few strands on the sides of his face, but allowing the bangs to still fall forward. He had blue eyes and an almost nonexistent beard, which he no doubt was teased about at a young age. He was very handsome indeed, but he was unattractive in the dwarfish people's eyes.

He held a quick smile and a glimmer of kindness, innocence that the thief noticed instantly. He could see the years that he spent in happiness. He had eyes of years of being held and cared for.

The thief only glanced at him for a moment though as he was dragged back to looking at the dwarf with the axes that turned towards him. The muscular dwarf huffed, "I'd feel better knowing he suffered by my own hands." The man said as he glared at the creature, which only made the thief return the look with an added glimmer of threatening eyes, and a small hand movement that indicated he was holding something behind his back and it wasn't anything that you would want to play with.

The dwarfs then started to argue amongst themselves about what method to use against the thief that had stumbled into their camp and almost made off with their coins while the later was actually attempting to form a plan of sorts against the ones who declared they would no doubt cause him some harm.

That was until the handsome dwarf from before stepped forward, "Be quiet!" he called over the group of dwarfs. They were quelled instantly and they were met with the quiet morning and chirping of birds as the light slowly crept into the forest and now illuminated it with a reddish glow. The robber looked towards what would be the leader of the group, or so he theorized, and as the light from the rising sun caught on the dwarf's skin in this reddish glow that slowly turned yellow.

He was caught by those eyes that he had not seen before due to the sleeping state that the leader had been in. They were of something of a sky blue that held years of knowledge, and though he seemed to have an arrogant demeanor to him he also had an air of responsibility on his shoulders that seemed to burden him. His eyes held the gaze of that of a warrior who had seen many battles and had traveled many nights and days over the winding hills and streams of Middle-earth. His eyes looked like that of someone who had seen horrors and a great many other things that kept him awake at night.

The blue eyed dwarf intrigued him so. He did not know why this was. Those eyes just drew him in. His heart did not stop nor race, but his eyes did observe and his mind wondered. There were things about this dwarf that did not make him mysterious, for he was like an open book, but made him seem so much better than someone that held an eerie look or past.

It made him seem courageous, loyal and something akin to caring.

These emotions and qualities blazed in the eyes that held fire and life within them. And these things drew him in, for he had not seen a look like that for many days and many nights. They reminded him of similar ones.

He would have stared into his eyes for a long while had it not been for the sounding of the tenor voice that held the edge of hostility or even disgust in it. He was brought back to his senses. The dwarf held his sword up a little bit higher, pointing it towards the burglar.

The leader would decide his fate, and though the thief saw the good points within the dwarf's eyes he knew he was not a forgiving dwarf. But no dwarf was forgiving, and that was something he had in common with them.

"You, Thief," He waited for the sentencing that the dwarf would give him. He stared at the dwarf as his mouth began to move. "Go away from us." The leader said with a slight jab of his sword gesturing for him to leave them. The burglar stared at him with surprise as this was not the sentence he thought he could have been faced with. From what he knew dwarfs were unforgiving and yet his one let him go without a harsh touch to his skin. It was not an unwelcome judgment, just unheard of.

The dwarf also left his kin baffled at his decision as they too looked at each other in surprise and in confusion. The thief was a little disbelieving at what he heard as he looked at this dwarf with suspicion. But he would take this mercy given by the leader. He started to back up, still keeping his eyes on the dwarfs who growled him and held their weapons, but one look from the leader had them backing down and accepting what he gave the thief. Though just as he made it to the edge of the circle, where a space was being made for him by grumbling and confused dwarfs, a voice hollered back at the group.

"Stop!" it roared and the thief bolted. His instincts telling him to run before the decision changed. But the dwarfs, who had parted for him, now grabbed him and pulled him back into the circle as the command was given. The thief growled at the dwarfs who dragged him back in without a thought or a comment to him. One of these dwarfs had a hairstyle that was rather amusing and fetching. He had a star like hair with three points sticking out and his eyebrows were braided into the hair as well, and his beard had three braids that were all in clamps. He had a rather oddly shaped weapon, with a hammer at one end and a spear at the other. The second who blocked him was a dwarf that was sure to scare the hairs off of any child who saw him. The most notable feature was the axe implanted in his head. He had crazed hair that sprang from everywhere, his beard had three braid one right in the center was large while the other two that were on either side of it were smaller. He did not have his entire beard braided into these for the rest hung out uncontrollably at his sides. He also had a fair amount of graying hair mixed into his black ones, but nothing like the leaders, who only had sprinkles here and there, while he had massive strands of greying hair. His weapon of choice was a spear, which he wielded wildly as he tried to keep the thief inside the circle.

The burglar growled at the dwarfs as he heard the moving of feet and shuffling of leaves. He turned around to find the old man stumbling down the hillside with a staff in hand and a glare in his eyes. "Fool," he told the dwarf who turned around, his face surely having the expression of anger and incredulous surprise. The dwarf fully turned to the tall man and snarled at him.

"Please," the dwarf said with bitterness in his every word. "Explain to me where my foolishness is?" He then pointed his sword towards the burglar. "This robber is nothing short of a disgrace," the criminal only rolled his eyes; if he didn't know better, he would think this dwarf were some kind of king. His rudeness was great and he seemed to think that everything that could steal from him was lowly. The dwarf set his sword down to his side and pointed to himself.

"Yet you call me a fool," the dwarf had a scowl spread across his face, "for letting him go, when he deserved much more?" the dwarf looked at the tall man with disdain at the words he spoke to him, but the man only sighed at the dwarf as he looked to him and slowly approached him only stopping momentarily by his side, his grey robes dragging across the dirt as he did so.

"Yes," the man said with emphasis on it, "You are a fool for almost letting him go." He said and walked past him as if he were something to be ignored. The dwarf ground his teeth growling a bit at the man who brushed passed him. The burglar did not care much for the argument given as he focused on the now tall man that came towards him, with his staff in hand and a blazing in his eyes.

The man walked towards the masked burglar, who almost stepped back in an untrusting moving. But he held his stance against the man as he did not sense hostility coming from him. It was something else that he was far more accustomed to. "Gandalf," the handsome dwarf said a disagreeing tone in his already put out voice. The tall figure raised an eyebrow at the dwarf, turning his head. "What?" the wizard said to the dwarf who was obviously displeased with the scene that was playing out.

"No," the dwarf said shaking his head a little bit, but the man ignored him once again and knelt down to the burglar's level. His eyes calculating as he looked upon the burglar with narrowed eyes. The thief could see instantly that this was no ordinary man. He had authority that rivaled that of the leader which was suspicious of dwarfs since they only listen to their own kin really. So of course he wondered who this peculiar man was, as he was laced with the same curiosity the man had, but he wasn't exactly in the mood for asking questions as the man seemed to zero his eyes in on him.

"What is your name?" the old man asked. The thief only looked at him with suspicion as he turned his gaze to the other dwarfs who had the incredulous expressions plastered on their faces. They obviously weren't expecting this turn of events or even invited it, especially the supposed leader who had an angered expression on his face. The burglar looked to the man who kneeled down at his level to speak properly to him, and with a raised eyebrow and a look of distrusted he retorted.

"What is yours?" He questioned.

The man smiled. "I am Gandalf the grey, a wizard." The robber's eyebrows furrowed as he heard the term "Wizard" he knew a few wizards from around as well. And they were either a twat, crazy or morbidly normal. He found it was better to stay away from them all together. But it made sense now why the dwarf would yield to him and not curse his existence. It also explained why the dwarfs followed his orders without question or mention of their leader.

He held some authority here.

But a question came upon him like a darkening sky he had not seen before.

Why was a wizard traveling with dwarfs?

He looked around once again to observe these dwarfs, but he did not find any who looked like noble folk. Maybe a couple of them did, but not many. The leader of the group held some kind of nobility no doubt, but he could not decipher any other who would hold the same kind of status to that of the dwarf. He looked back to the wizard and eyed him suspiciously

The wizard had raised a grey, bushy eyebrow, awaiting a response to his question. The creature thought on what his response would be.

He knew he couldn't use his name.

That was something that was out of the question.

So he thought he could use his other titles, but that would just get the whole company mad. They did not want him to step out of this circle of swords right now. What would they do if they found out who he was? And especially if they had found out what he had done. They would not take too kindly to him if they found out about that.

"Well, what is your name?" The wizard asked getting a little impatient as he stared at the eyes of this masked figure. He began to question this thief as he thought and pondered as if he had forgotten his own name, but that could not be so. If anything, he was hiding his name. And whatever purpose he had for hiding the name, it wasn't a good one.

The thief understood the agitation of the wizard, but he was tongue tied on what to say.

A dwarf with a funny hat, long and thick clothes, with a pick axe as a weapon, and a long moustache, with two braids in his hair that curled outwards, looked to him and tsked as he put his hand on his hip very annoyed. "Come on, give us a name laddie." He said as he put his pick axe down and sighed, but he was silenced and got a swift glare from the wizard. The dwarf cringed at the sudden anger directed towards him, but he recovered from it as soon as it was placed on him. The thief could only give him a quick look with no amount of glares or scowls as he thought on the name he would use.

The wizard turned back to the robber with gentle eyes and a caring smile.

"You can trust us with the title you bare." He encouraged the thief to speak, but the burglar had no name he could use. His true name would not be uttered here, and his others were forbidden as well since all they would do is make the situation worse. His mind delved deep into the names that he remembered but he could not find one that suited him. Then as he looked at this man and his kneeling, but still tall form, he could not help but think of a memory he had from a long while ago. And a title he had almost forgotten ran through his head.

Ranger from the mountains

The burglar spoke swiftly. "I'm the burglar of the mountains. That is what they call me." His eyes darted around to the dwarf's faces for their reaction to the name that he gave. They all looked at him confused at this title he gave them.

After all, it was not a name, why?

For whatever reasons he could not give his name they could not tell you, but the most logical thing would be that he was wanted for crimes he committed, and he had to protect his name against those who would turn him in.

The leader of the dwarfs looked at him distrusting and with a raised eyebrow of sure suspicion. He didn't like the burglar as of before, but knowing that he hid his name from them just made his disdain for the thief grow. The other dwarfs looked puzzled towards each other.

One with a white long beard that curled at the very ends in two opposite directions stepped forward. "So you're a dwarf from the blue mountains then?" He asked the burglar that turned to him an expression unidentified in his eyes. The sun crept to the forest now illuminating it with a yellow glow as the thief looked to the dwarf that had questioned where he had come from.

But the thief did not reply with an answer that satisfied the group.

"That's none of your concern." The intruder said with a disheartening attitude in his voice. The dwarf flinched a little at the fierceness of his words. The others were just as surprised by how harsh his tone had turned towards the one who questioned him. The leader in particular eyed the burglar with curiosity and bafflement. He had never seen someone react so badly to a simple question before, and it made him uneasy that he did so.

The thief narrowed his gaze towards the dwarf. "I am from far away that is all you need to know. I don't give information about myself away to those I just met, and no less those who I have stolen from."

The wizard's gaze turned curious on the peculiar creature as he answered the dwarf. And the burglar knew what he must have been thinking in his mind. He knew he was asking himself the questions many before him asked, but the robber never revealed the answers to anyone. And those that knew were few in number or gone.

"Gandalf," the leader said a warning in his voice that snapped the thief out of his thoughts. He looked up to the dwarf who turned to the wizard with a scowl on his face. But the wizard was not looking back at the dwarf who was currently staring at his back with ire in his eyes. The robber turned his gaze to the wizard to find him still staring into his eyes as he stood rather close to him. The wizard's gaze then went slightly wide as some sort of realization came to him, but it was only for a moment before he nodded to himself holding on to his staff.

He mumbled and grumbled about something. "Well, yes," he seemed to say to himself while he looked down for a moment in condensation. It wasn't long though until Gandalf then came back up to meet the intruder's eyes and he smiled at the creature. He kneeled back down with a smirk playing at his eyes and a twinkle of something akin to amusement fluttering in them.

"How would you like an adventure?" The creature's eyes went narrow as he looked at the wizard. "My whole life has been an adventure," he said nonchalant, but with a hint of sadness as well burrowing itself in the way he pronounced the words and rolled off his tongue. Gandalf narrowed his gaze towards the thief as he obviously caught the subtly hint of pain that the question seemed to bring.

He put his hand on his shoulder.

"Do you want company on another adventure then?"

The burglar's eyes grazed over the wizards as he saw the twinkle of amusement and wonder in his eyes. It was something that he had not seen in a long while, and he had not expected a man as old as him to have this sort of wonderment. Even though he was a wizard, he seemed like that of a child. Not innocent, but gleeful and giddy without the worries that an adult bares, or at least he went without them at the moment, and those eyes made him have the same wonder that he had lost many moons ago.

And he felt the pull to say yes to this wizard.

But he was not naïve. He had somewhere to be. These dwarfs could be going anywhere.

He knew what his answer needed to be though.

He needed to say yes.

For even though these dwarfs may be traveling in a completely different direction, he needed what they had: protection, money, and clothing.

They would give him protection at night so he wouldn't have to find a bloody cave or some uncomfortable corner to hide in for the night. They could provide a good team of protection while they traveled in the day, for orc packs seemed to be running amuck these days. They could also give him clothes or more blankets for the unkind nights and chilly evening air. They could hunt for their meals on the road for him as he helped them on their quest. He wouldn't only have his cloak and a thin blanket to keep him warm at night; he would have far more blankets and a fire to keep him from freezing. And he wouldn't have to be on alert all the time or sleep in one of the dreadful trees.

The only thing that would be holding him back was that he was setting out for the east. But they could be heading to the Iron Hills which was right in his path after all, and it would not hinder his own quest, although they may be going north or further west as well. They were past the Land of Sorrows, Bree and that of Archet. It would take a couple of weeks, if not a month, to travel to the Blue Mountains. And if they were traveling to the northern lands then it put quite a distance between him and his goal.

But as he thought on it, he reasoned with himself. He could use the things that they provided, and after all he was not too suited to go east as of yet. He had put that aside before, but now as he thought on it he did need some more supplies.

The thief looked at the wizard who waited for his answer patiently. He had already thought about this though.

There was no choice now.

_They have everything I need and more._

He turned towards the wizard as he had made his decision. "I'll go on this Adventure." He said to the wizard, but the leader of the group had a few things to say. "Gandalf," the dwarf said for the third time, and the thief looked over to see his eyes go far more serious than before, taking on a stern look. "You know he cannot join this company." The leader proclaimed as he asserted his authority, while staring down at the burglar who looked up at him. The wizard was not going to take no for an answer though. That was clear in his next few words. The wizard stood and turned towards the dwarf flustered from what seemed to be irritation.

"He is joining our company." the wizard stated, stomping his staff on the ground and putting a hand on his hip as frustration filled his face at the stubbornness of the dwarf. "We need a fourteenth member." The wizard said sternly to the leader who only glowered at the words that the wizard uttered. The burglar watched as words started to slip from the dwarf's mouth, but the wizard stopped him from talking.

"And it is my decision." the wizard paused in his words to leave the dwarf to ponder over his judicious words, but not soon after the izard started up again, "You left it up to me to find the fourteenth member of this company, a burglar no less." the wizard looked back at the thief, pointing his finger towards the darkly dressed creature while he held his staff.

"Well here's a burglar standing right in front of you, which you know is good. He would have never been caught if it wasn't for me," he proclaimed, and before the dwarf could even move his mouth, he continued, "and he smells nothing of a dwarf! He is the perfect one for this quest!" He reasoned with the dwarf who slowly understood the wizard's logic, but the dwarf held some kind of hesitation or maybe more appropriately some concern for another reason. The dwarf shook his hand and head at the wizard's words.

"I do not question his skills." The dwarf said as he looked at the burglar. His icy blue eyes passing over him like he were a fly waiting to be swat at. They made the thief almost shiver, but he had faced worse, much worse. So he returned the look with disinterest in the leader of the group as he stood with his cloak behind his one shoulder showing off his muscles and arms that held years of scars. The leader obviously observed this scars with interest as many did, but it was only a slight interest to them.

_The dwarf must have had his own scars._

He looked back at the wizard, and went nearer towards him, speaking in a hushed tone, while turning his back on the burglar. But not before he eyed the warrior dwarf for a second, as if to say, "Watch him," the warrior nodded as the other went to talk to the wizard.

"How can we trust him?" the dwarf wondered; he was already very suspicious of him.

One was the fact that he covered his face from the bridge of his nose all the way down to his neck, with a mask that hung over his chest. Why would someone have a mask like that if it weren't to protect their identity, and by his occupation it was most likely because of his crimes? The other was that he gave shady answers to questions that were very simple and shouldn't be hard to answer unless you were trying to hide something. And he avoided the question that should have been the simplest to answer, but still he avoided it. He hid his name, his origins, and his people from them. Someone with so many secrets, and unable to share, obviously had something that they wanted to keep secret.

This was a secret that they may not be able to afford.

He looked back at the burglar who had narrowed eyes, and he wondered.

_Who was he?_

The wizard stared back at the creature as well; he shared the dwarf's worries. But he saw something in him. Normally he would not take this chance, but there was something that this burglar reminded him of. He guessed that the real reason he wanted him to join was because he reminded him of someone that made him strong once before. He guessed he just wished to remember that person once more.

No matter what he smelled of, by the end of the journey he would smell like a dwarf.

He could have easily used Nori for this job, as they were going to do unless something changed, but Nori lacked something that the wizard found within the burglar's eyes despite how deeply it was buried.

Gandalf's old gaze settled back on the dwarf who shared his fears. He turned back to the group projecting his voice a little. "If he does do something to betray you, any of you," his eyes preyed on the burglar warning him as he spoke again, "he'll have to deal with me." The dwarfs around them mumbled to each other, while Gandalf made this promise to them. And it did ease the tension they felt for having the burglar as one of the company. Each and every one of them knew that a wizard had immense power, and to have one on your bad side was not wise.

They were satisfied with that. Although the leader did not have the same ease that the others did, he accepted this. After all, the wizard would not yield from his position.

He nodded his head as he looking to the ground considering his words. "I'll allow his presence in our group," The dwarf stated now turning his attention to Gandalf and off of the burglar for a few seconds. "But do not expect me to trust him or for me to be responsible for his fate." He said this quietly to the wizard who nodded.

"Well," the wizard started off as the weapons slowly eased down as the tensions were lessoned measurably, "now that we have all that settled. Why don't we introduce the group to you?" After a painfully awkward moment the dwarfs grimly put away their weapons. And the tenseness that the burglar didn't think he had was released as they put the sharp edges away inside their holders, his own grip lessening on his blade. They looked at each other a little wary because their leader was obviously wary of him. They were, in a word, cautious of the burglar, but as they remembered Gandalf's words they smiled.

Plus, the creature was so small that they could just touch him and he would probably fall over.

"Well now, let's start with the leader of the company." Gandalf said as he went behind the burglar a comforting hand placed on his bare shoulder as he sighed. The wizard pointed towards the leader and the thief was not surprised.

_Of course_

"This is Thorin Oakenshield," the wizard said emphasizing the words as if it was a title that should be honored or glorified. The leader of the company stepped forward then; his sword put away, and presented himself before the thief. As the leader stepped forward though, there was something that caught in his mind and drew him inwards to his psyche.

_Thorin_

The name rang through his mind like a long lost echo.

He stood there trying to remember where he heard that name before. He repeated it over and over again in his mind, trying hard to dig through the many names he had heard of and the many faces he had remembered.

He flipped through the pages of his mind. But this particular name seemed to echo from his distant and forgotten past. It seemed to whisper memories of a warm hearth and a gentle but firm voice. It seemed to make images of stone halls and a white Orc facing down a lone dwarf.

It seemed to echo from his dreams.

_Thor-Thorin!_

"He is-" the burglar cut him off.

"Thorin, son of Thror, son of Thrain, King under the mountain, the King of Erobor," Everybody was a bit taken aback by the sound of the thief's voice echoing the name. It was not uncommon for other dwarfs to know of Thorin, but the way the thief said his name caused others to raise their eyebrows. He had uttered the name with such a reminiscing tone. It was like he had met an old friend or recalled the name of someone he had spoken with years before. It was not unwelcoming or caused any bad suspicions to fall on the burglar it was just not expected.

The dwarf king for sure did not expect this reaction. He had been met with dwarfs who had said his name like this many times when they found out who he was. But they usually had a different tone, something that did not feel like he should know them. The voice held such a distant and back watered tone that it may have almost seemed threatening, but it wasn't.

"So you've heard of me." The thief nodded as things were brought back from the past that had been buried six inches deep into his mind and stored into a place he thought that he would never touch again. That is until the time was right, and this wasn't exactly the time he thought his mind would be brought back into the past.

He thought this would occur with someone else.

But fate and chance always liked to play their tricks, and maybe this was just another one of their schemes.

He observed the wizard and dwarfs reactions, and he could tell that questions hung at the tips of every one of the dwarf's tongues, especially the wizard.

Maybe he shouldn't have said it out loud, but he couldn't help it. The thoughts from back then over whelmed him as his dreams seemed to chase him to now. He thought back to the stories he heard, to the legends that he imagined playing out in his head.

The fantasies he thought out.

His own inquires drew him out of his mind as he looked towards the dwarf king with curiosity.

What was a king doing out in the woods, with a group of dwarfs that were not warriors or anything of the like? This question bothered him so, and made his interests run chaotically in his mind. He assessed the dwarfs with a new eye, and looked upon them once again, glancing towards the wizard ever so lightly.

Then something snapped through his eyes as the memories brought back a story, and he recalled the tale of it. He then knew why they were there immediately. It suddenly made sense why a wizard would accompany dwarfs on the road. It made sense why there as a small group with Thorin Oakenshield out on the road and not in his Mountains. It made sense why they were not skilled warriors.

His eyes narrowed as he realized what it was that these dwarfs were after. And it made his blood run cold, and made his heart race at the same time for he knew of what they searched for. He knew of what they wanted that lay behind stones doors, and rested beneath a red and fiery dragon. He had heard the breath of it. He had heard the rumbling of it. He had heard it whisper to him once before. He knew what they were after.

He cut everybody off with his next words.

"You're going to get the Arkenstone."


	12. Chapter 12

**Andwise**

?

The winds were a curious thing. They soared through the air and caused more damage and destruction than fire at times. Yet they moved across your face and grazed a gentle touch to it. More gentle than a mothers hand or the feel of silk. For such a strong force to have such a kind breeze was strange to Bilbo, but he understood it when he was with his brother Andwise.

"Get off me you arrogant Hobbits!" Bilbo shouted as a couple of his fellow kin jumped on him tackling him to the ground with a thud.

"Stop being a suck up to Jessamine, Bilbo!" One of the hobbits hissed as he pulled at Bilbo's hair. "Yeah, what the hell did you ever do you short footed weasel!" Another shouted at Bilbo as he held the hobbit down. Bilbo retaliated though, thrashing and struggling under the elder's callous embrace. He tried to escape, but these characters would not let the hobbit go.

"M-maybe if-if you just trained instead of looming over her, you would get some praise!" He said having a hard time saying anything due to the tight hold.

"Do you hear this Cade," said one of the other hobbits who were not pulling at his hair or holding him down. "Aye, I think he wants a taste of some of that lovely Jago torment." The threat ringing in the Hobbit's pointed ears.

He shook his head furiously as he remembered what that Jago torment was. It was a clever concoction of being thrown into the Queen Donamiria's royal and grand Hobbit hole while her son, Jago, also Jessamine's brother, glowered and picked at you like a squirrel. Then with a cracking of a knuckle you were rushed out, and had to train over and over again until you were on your knees begging for forgiveness. Training with him was rough as hell, but then having to train with his sister was worse than the cruelest Orc.

Bilbo glared. "You blasted twats!" He shouted as he kicked one of the hobbits right in the sheen, and with the distraction under way he made his escape.

"Come back here Bilbo, we ain't done with ya!" They shouted as they ran towards their prey, "Oi, get back here you skippering scoundrel!"

"We oughta pummel you into tomorrow," proclaimed one of the irksome hobbits, who threatened Bilbo as he tackled the smaller one to the ground. In the midst of the no doubt epic battle the struggling hobbits did not notice the figure that slowly stalked towards them. Its eyes glowering at the tangled limbs as it stepped closer and closer.

"I swear you are going to regret that," stated the hobbit Bilbo kicked in the sheen.

"What are you doing?" questioned a looming figure with a deep tenor voice. The hobbits looked up at the new comer scowling in his direction. "Why don't ya-" they immediately stopped in mid-sentence as they realized who it was. This did not bode well for the hobbits, not one bit.

The smaller hobbit looked up when the others stopped their attack. His eyes glanced over a tall figure with black pants, armor and a sword tied to his back. He breathed out a sigh of relief as he saw the stern figure.

"Andwise," he said, but was promptly ignored.

"Why don't I what?" The muscular and daunting hobbit inquired as he crossed his arms over his chest. The four hobbits scrambled to their feet and left Bilbo on the dirt ground. They did not even spare a glance towards him.

"Nothing,"

"Yeah, you do not have to do anything you do not want to," the hobbit gulped, "Andwise."

The other hobbits soon joined in agreeing, "Whatever you want, Andwise."

"Yeah, whatever,"

Andwise gave each of them his infamous black eye. The young ones cringed in fear as he looked at him with his cold glance. The looks on their faces blanched and the smaller creature, on the ground, could not help but smirk at their reaction. That was until the same look was passed down to him as well. The small curve of his lip dissipated off his face almost immediately.

Andwise was feared all over Halcyon. This was due to his show of strength at the festival. Hobbits from all over Halcyon gathered to show off their young and old warriors. They would have competitions and battles for days on end.

Andwise was one of the best warriors at his age. He practiced non-stop with jessamine and Jago. He had won the tournament for his age group and received a lot of respect. Not that respect was something he just then earned with this, just more recognition. Everywhere they went someone would clap the back of his brother's shoulder and show the respect they held for him in their eyes. But others also feared him or felt intimidated and Bilbo could not blame them for feeling so.

Andwise was a hobbit of few words, and just that was intimidating. When trying to have a conversation with someone who had bested so many, and only being met with a few words, made it seem like he thought himself better. Bilbo had discovered that this was not so, he just did not have anything to say. He took to observing with his eyes then actually asking or speaking with his mouth. And it did not help that he was the bearer of a look that would make any Orc shiver.

He got that from their mother.

The elder leaned down with hazel eyes glaring at the four hobbits. "Move," he commanded and the oppressors nodded taking off at the order without a second thought.

Bilbo sighed in relief when he saw his tormentors running off in the green fields, but this was not over for him. He stood up and thanked his brother for helping him. Then just as he was about to walk away a hand landed on his shoulder.

Bilbo did not move.

He had learned that when he tried to run away his brother was always faster and stronger. He picked this up when he tried to steal his elder brother's sword. Only to be hauled back to the house and thrown over his brother's shoulder like a sack of flour.

The older hobbit took hold of the younger's face, observing the bruises and small cuts that were on it.

He glowered. "Those rascals are getting bolder." Bilbo shrugged and looked down away from those ever keen hazel eyes. "There isn't anything I can do about it." The hobbit said nonchalantly. He older hobbit studied the younger one as he twitched and fidgeted under his gaze. Bilbo did not dare look up at that piercing gaze though; they were just as ferocious as his mother's.

"Why do you let them hurt you?" Andwise asked.

Bilbo shot him a startled look about to protest before he saw the expression on Andwise. He had a stern gaze. He knew not to speak.

The older sibling looked judgmentally at his brother. "I've seen you practicing," Bilbo's head sank a little low as his brother spoke, "you could easily get rid of them and they would never bother you again. But you let them do as they please." Bilbo did not miss the disappointment in his voice. He sunk his head even further, staring at the ground instead of at the hobbit.

The hand on his shoulder then tensed a little. "So why do you let them?" The hobbit frowned, and he was tempted to pull the hand off his shoulder and just walk away. But when he glanced at those eyes he knew one way or another he was going to have to talk. Better this way than the other. With a lowered gaze he answered, "Because it is the only time I get to spend with you." The younger brother pointed out blatantly, but it was the truth. The only time Bilbo's brother even acknowledged him was when he was being beaten or bullied. The elder would rush in at those times, and either give them a tongue lashing or say a few words and have them scampering off to their mother's skirts.

Then he would talk and speak to Bilbo with kind words, and give him advice on what to do. But besides those times, he never spoke to him or even looked at him. Sometimes Bilbo wondered if he even liked him, and he just pitied him when he was hit.

It hurt to not be noticed by someone he respected so much.

Bilbo continued on as he let his emotions roll off his tongue. "You never spare a second glance to me at home. You're always so focused at practice that you don't see me talking to you, and at dinner you don't even say one word to me." The hobbit kept his head down not daring to glance up at his older brother. He knew the wrath that the man had. It would not be pleasant to be yelled at by him, but it would happen at some point.

So he continued on, going to untouched territory with his elder brother. "I know I'm different and quirky, a little whimsical as well, but I'm your brother." His voice seemed to be filled with melancholy as he said those words. "You don't even spare a few words to me unless someone has me on the ground or a fist in my face." Bilbo had a hint of anger on his tongue, but still he did not feel the courage to look to his brother who was probably pitying him and belittling him in his eyes. He knew that much.

After all, how could a boy like him, ever respect someone like Bilbo? He couldn't. If not, he would have been better to him.

Andwise narrowed his gaze as he looked at the back of his hair. "You care that much for my company?" Bilbo looked up at his brother taken aback by his words.

"Yes, you're my brother. Why would I not?" After he said these words his head went back down and looked away from the calculating gaze. He did not want to see the rejection that would surely be in his face.

But that was not to come, "Lassie," a soft voice called.

Andwise kneeled before the small hobbit. His hand extended and caressed Bilbo's face wiping away the tears that had fallen there. Bilbo had not even noticed that he had begun crying until his brother wiped away the tears with his thumb. The younger one looked at his brother with red eyes and saw a sweet smile on his face.

Andwise held melancholy behind his face though and soon enough the façade left his brother. His feelings were then portrayed on his face showing the conflict within. "You are-" the hobbit looked upon the little one. His gaze one filled with sorrow and mirth. The two emotions were placed together so painfully that it filled Bilbo's heart with a slight guilt.

How could his brother be sad and yet be jovial? It puzzled him.

"You are..." his gaze faltered for a moment before he continued. He changed his words though and Bilbo wondered what he would have said if he continued. But the thought escaped him soon enough as the pull of his brother's tenor voice reached his pointed ears.

"Lassie, I have been cruel to you. I should not treat you so harshly for I adore your little smiles and quirky ways." He winked at him.

"I am sorry," he states with a solemn voice and gaze. "I have always thought you never wanted anything to do with me."

The small hobbit's eyebrows furrowed together confused. "Why would you ever think that?" The tall hobbit sighed as he caressed his younger brother's face. His head then hung low for a second in condensation the gentle hand falling to his side as he spoke once more.

"It was just an ignorant thought." Bilbo huffs as his hands go to his hips in a fit; he then flicks his brother's head which snaps the elder's attention.

"Would you stop having ridiculous thoughts and actually be my brother then?" He questions, glaring but oddly he looks to adorable to be taken with merit. The older hobbit smirks and picks Bilbo up slinging his arm around him and letting the smaller one rest on his hip as if he were a babe.

"How about we go home, Lassie?" Andwise questioned with a smirk still on his face.

The younger one rolls his eyes and scrunched his face irked by the name that Andwise keeps calling him. Ever since he was young the older brother of Bilbo always had that nick name for him. He never said it out in public, but he often used it in private or with the family. Apparently he had wanted a little sister when news that his mother was going to have a baby came, and he vowed to call the babe lassie as a loving nickname.

But to his astonishment, and slight disappointment, it was not a girl. The nickname stuck though. And before, Bilbo was annoyed with it and downright hated it with a vengeance, but eventually he came to not love it, but to not disagree with it so harshly like he once did.

It was kind of nice.

"So the first thing you do is treat me like some girl?"

"Well then lassie, would you like me to tell jessamine your description of being handled like a girl?" The hobbit blanched at the thought. "No, I'm quite alright," Andwise laughed at his little brother's displeased face and walked off with the younger hobbit.

An insect trailed behind the two unnoticed as it stalked them. The brown life form battered its wings through the air with something on its tiny mind. It followed them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Year of 2941**

The crowd of dwarfs stayed silent as none of them said anything towards the small creature's statement. But they did cast uneasy gazes to one another as the words left them shifting on their feet. Messages playing across their eyes as they knowingly looked to each other.

And a single question rang through their minds.

_How did the thief know?_

The dwarf king stepped closer towards the creature as curiosity filled his bones and caution trekked over his skin. "How do you know of the stone?" Thorin immediately said, but the burglar did not elaborate. Instead he backed away a bit from the man. His gaze was a little wary of the dwarf before him as he took those few steps back from him. Thorin was not offended or moved by this in any way. He hardly even noticed it as his mind ran with thoughts about the creature and his knowledge of the stone.

All he could think of was the stone.

After a moment, the burglar answered the dwarf. "I have heard stories and tales of the stone as many of you have." He said as he stayed arm's length away from the leader of the company, who eyed him with cynicism as his gaze narrowed towards the thief. He did not like that he knew their plan about the stone, and since he was a burglar that just caused the dwarf to become more cynical of the creature.

For if he knew so fondly of the stone, he may want it for himself.

While the king went through his own mind process, the wizard did the same thing.

Gandalf had his eyes on the creature in front of him. He was shocked at the words that spilled from the small one's mouth. Of course dwarfs knew of the Arkenstone, but the way he just said what they were planning, without question, unnerved the wizard a bit.

After all, he was a burglar.

And he wasn't one like Nori at all. Though Nori had no real allegiance to anyone, he did respect Thorin without a doubt, while the position this thief felt towards Thorin was uncertain. He held on to his staff as his mind slipped into questions, which followed a need for these to be answered.

The dwarfs, on the other hand, were, for lack of a better word, surprised that he knew what they were doing without a second glance to anyone. He did not need anything besides Thorin's name and he deduced their plot immediately. To others this just made the thief smart, while to some it meant that the burglar must have seen the same portents that he had and was on his way to get the stone.

Thorin especially looked at him with suspicion. He feared the same as his kin, maybe even more so than them. He did not trust this burglar before now he wanted to cut him down where he stood.

"So you're going to the Lonely Mountain, to Erobor." The burglar voiced the obvious, but none the less the dwarf king replied with a nod. The thief seemed to have something waver in his eyes at this concept. Thorin was sure it was because he thought of going to the mountain and possibly stealing something precious. But then the look in his eyes changed into something to confusion or slight surprise.

"How... strange,"

Winds picked up in the breeze as dawn was arriving, slowly illuminating the forest around them, turning the darkness of the morning into daylight. The forest began to glow with a dark, but bright yellow as the sun arose from its dark depths. Now they could see a little bit more of the burglar's gaze.

"What is strange?" A gruff voice, belonging to the wizard, asked. It was the same question that the dwarf king had planted into his mind as he was very curious of the thief. Thorin waited for an answer.

The burglar looked off into the sun rising over the mountains far off in the distance. He turned to his side to the dwarf king's front and stared past a couple of dwarfs, exposing his bare shoulder to the eyes of the king as the light shined on his tanned, dirty skin. The dwarf at first did not mind the bare shoulder until he remembered the scars he had seen before on the thief. And now that the light was directly on the shoulder, he could see them all. He observed the scars on his body with keen eyes as he saw how they veered from long and deep cuts to short and shallow ones. Some of them looked very painful to have endured too. He couldn't help but wonder where he had gotten them.

But he had his own scars, he understood. As a warrior he had received scars and as a king he had received many defending his people from orcs that came in the night raiding and destroying all they could find. In dwarfish culture you wore your scars with pride, but the small one in front of him was not a warrior. He was a thief and those scars came not from battle. Those scars came from stealing and punishment for those crimes, or at least that was what he thought.

The creature looked to the dwarf, as the king held a glare, his head turned towards him, with shadows casting over his emerald eyes and face. "I'm headed east as well, though the Lonely Mountain is not my destination." He stated with a nonchalant tone. Thorin considered the words given to him as his blue eyes roamed the body of the thief, taking in his form and questioning it. He looked over the draped coat that covered his other shoulder, while the rest of it rested behind him, held together by a plain string. His shirt was short sleeved and held no embroidery. His pants were plain and seemed to sag slightly on him, while the black fabric held nothing special in it. His dwarf boots were a tad bit large, but that did not seem to bother him at all. He looked like a dwarf warrior, even if his muscles looked smaller than usual dwarfs. He gazed over the thief, but the place where his gaze finally rested was in the thief's eyes. Those emerald hues had years to them. There was no naïveté in them to speak of. He knew the world and the harshness of it. He had seen years of many things, and those hardships hardened the cool emerald eyes immensely. He must have been an old dwarf, maybe not as old as Thorin, but still old.

Peculiarly, he noticed that the thief seemed to have only scars and clothes on him. Dwarfs were known to at least have some silver or gold jewels, especially claps that they wore in their hair proudly, but this one did not. He had no jewelry or silver on and, from what it seemed, his hair was short like that of Ori's.

Thorin started to question the creature in front of him even more by his observations. But they were cut short as the wizard asked a question himself. One the king was about to ask upon if it wasn't for his observations.

"Why are you traveling east?" a hint of curiosity in the wizard's voice. Then the thief answered, "Why do you think a thief travels anywhere?" Thorin was still worried about the burglar's motives east, but his mind was put at ease because of logic. After all, he could never hope to get into Erobor, burglar or no burglar, and Thorin doubted he would risk his life for the gold.

But that did not help what Thorin thought of him. In the back of his mind it whispered to him that the burglar was going to Erobor.

"Well," the wizard interrupted the thoughts of both king and burglar. They then turned their attention to the group. The burglar looked around and could see the dwarfs looked at him with mistrusting gazes. They did not trust him. He was a thief through and through, but they trusted Gandalf obviously. So they did not say anything openly.

"Now, why don't we head to the camp and get the rest of the introductions out of the way." The group nodded most going along with the wizard. But some stayed for a little bit, including the king and burglar who started at each other for a split second. The burglar nodded to the King in some sort of respect of him. But the dwarf only looked back at him in disgust and brushed the nod off as if it were nothing. The thief did not react to this. Instead he just stood there for a moment, and then he moved on. They started their walk back up to the camp site.

Then, one brave dwarf came forward to the creature.

"Hi, I'm Bofur, at your service." the one with the odd hat said, "thank you for not stealing from me." he voiced as he took his hat off, bowed and smiled at the burglar. Although the burglar did not do the same he only stared at the dwarf curiously. "Do not thank me. I just didn't see you." He then quickly moved away from him, leaving him dumb-stricken and a little insulted.

As the Burglar walked away, he was then tapped on the shoulder. He spun around with a quick speed and a hand behind his back. The dwarf smirked at him as he was startled from his regular peace. "Girlie," he said to the burglar, "I'm Dwalin." The thief glared at the dwarf in front of him who did the same right back. They stared each other down, and neither gave the other an inch. It wasn't until Balin coughed did the two look away from one another.

"I am Dwalin's brother, Balin, at your service." The dwarf with the long white beard and reddish robes said as he bowed in respect.

"Zai Dashunizu." The thief spoke as he bowed back to the dwarf, while the other one scooted away from him with a glare in his eyes as he joined the king's side.

The white haired dwarf smiled at him. "You don't have to speak in our native tongue. We speak in the common tongue here all the time, but more because of the company of the Wizard." He pointed towards the grey figure that moved its way up front, leading them back to camp. He then winked at the thief and tapped his nose. "Welcome aboard laddie. Now there is just a minor thing with a contract..."


	14. Chapter 14

**?**

A small voice sang in the mid-day air. It sang of a past woe as it drifted through the air. It was heard by all creatures around it, including a boy that lay in the tall, green grass, resting his head on the plump ground as the owner of the voice sat on a rock, peering over the village. The boy looked up to the day sky as he listened to that melancholy song, with all of its blues, white and yellows. He found serenity in the view, and in the soft sounding voice. He closed his eyes and took in the elegance of it. Soon though colors seemed to dance across his vision and a new world began. He dreamed of the halls of Erobor, a dwarf king sitting on a throne, singing their people's song. He dreamed of the mountains of gold that anyone anywhere would have been baffled to see.

_"To dungeons deep where dark things sleep . . ."_ the girl sang the song that the boy had learned of so many years ago, with ease and peace. He would hate to admit it but she had the best voice he had ever heard. Her voice rang beautifully through the hobbit's ears, almost sounding like a mystical she-elf. But he could not help himself from imagining a man with dark hair, blue warming eyes and a beard, singing the song in a very low octave. His clothing portraying that he was royalty and declaring all who looked upon him of his kingship.

The king sung by himself, letting his voice bellow across the room. Drums then began beating in the background as he sang. Flutes preceded the drums soft, but threatening beat. They gave out beautiful notes, helping the symphony. Then the sound was joined by an violin that played keenly quiet, almost not revealing its merit part. Lastly, a harp was added, giving the tune a sense of danger as the harpist plucked the strings lightly. A beautiful tone was set to it then and the emotions coursed through his psyche. Loneliness, sorrow and the sickness of remembering ones desolated home. But in some way, it was peaceful as well, and gave him shivers as he imagined it.

The boy smiled to himself when he though of the green tall halls. He pictured the dwarf king singing to him on his throne of the mountain, with the Arkenstone gleaming above him in all of its glory. The deep throat tone of the king's voice began echoing throughout the kingdom's throne room, causing it to bounce back to his ears as if the sound could never end. It seemed as immortal as any elf. Other dwarfs then soon joined in as well sending a bewitching rhythm and a colorful mixture of voices throughout the room. Through the mountain alone you could hear the enchanting sound of their tones as they sang this song of mourning. The echoing sound that ricochet off the walls enchanted anyone who heard.

The boy smiled as he closed his eyes and imagined finding himself underneath the kings loving eyes. "Bilbo, you know you shouldn't lie on the stone cold floor." The king would say in his mind's eye and pick him up. He'd sit him on his lap properly and then hold him close, singing to him in his ear. He was getting lost in the king's voice, but the serenity of the moment would not last long. For the song was not as immortal as an elf. It was fleeting.

_"And men looked up, with faces pale. The dragon's ire, more fierce then fire, laid low their towers and houses frail. Far over the Misty Mountains cold, to dungeons deep and caverns old."_ The song then ended and the fantasy, which he was enjoying so much, had vanished before his mind. He opened his eyes and sighed in distress as his imagination could not dream up those halls of dwarfs without the lovely song that glittered his imagination of a land far away form here, where treasures lay and a people of foreign origins lay, waiting.

He boy got up, moving towards his sister, smiling. "You have a beautiful voice, May. I think you should sing it for the festival." Bilbo told his younger sister. She smiled nice and big, letting her small dimples show, as her strawberry blonde hair bounced with her small curled. "Really, Bilbo, really?" she asked, standing up on the rock, bouncing with excitement. He laughed and nodded as he told her to get down before she slips and falls. she did as she was told, obeying him, smiling. She then looked over towards a patch of grass where another boy lay. "Halfred!" She hollered towards him. "What did you think?" the boy shrugged. "Does it have to be such a sad song?" he questioned as the girl crossed her arms in her green and black dress.

"Well it is in memory of the war, Halfred!" She shouted back to him as he started to get up, wiping off the grass that stuck on to his green tunic and tan pants. He shuffled over his hands on his hips as he thought. "Well if it is for that, May, then why don't you just ask to do the Land of Sorrows, or Fallen Queen." He asked, but she shook her head as she said, "I don't like those songs, Mom doesn't sing them. I wouldn't want to sing them in front of a crowd if she doesn't." Halfred rolled his eyes."Who cares if she doesn't like those song?" May raised her eyebrows towards him in surprise and a bit of disgust. "She went through the war, Halfred, and she's our mother. Have some sympathy!" She hissed, as she stood up, scolding her brother. Halfred glared at her, but he was stopped as Bilbo spoke up, "Knock it off you two, we have a couple days until the festival, so how about we work on that then you can bicker all you like." The two still glared at each other but silenced themselves.

Bilbo rolled his eyes a his younger siblings. "If you want to please mom, and not upset her," he stated while talking to May, "you should do this song. She would like it either way, but I feel like she would tear up if you sang the other song. The war is still close to her heart. Father's too." Both of them knew that and solemnly nodded their heads. His mother and father were both great parents, best, but it was indisputable that the war haunted them, as well as the Land of Sorrows. Out of both of them though, their father was far more effected by it. He barely spoke, barely talked, sure he did what he could, smiled some, but he was depressed over it all, which was why their mother usually took hold of the family. He was more worried about his father breaking down at this festival than their mother.

"Why don't we just sing a happier song?" Halfred questioned again, but it was more just a statement than anything. May did not take it that way. "Are you serious, be more respectful of those people, we can't just sing a happy song in memory of a tragic war that happened!" Halfred glared. "I was jus-" Bilbo hushed them as he yelled. "Stop bickering the both of you before you go into a full out fight!" they stayed quiet and looked away from him. He sighed as he spoke softly to May. "You're doing the Misty Mountains, and that's final, alright?" she nodded. Bilbo then started to walk away, but the two could be heard from behind, bickering. "Did you have to do that, now he is mad?"May whispered to her brother. Halfred merely replied in an equally hushed tone, "Why do you have to take so much offense?" the both went on, but were soon quieted as Bilbo turned around, eyeing them.

"Do I have to threaten mother on you two?" the both shook their heads in silence. He nodded to them and continued to walk back to their house, smiling as he did so. He knew their mother would never do anything to harm them. She was too much of a soft one, but he guessed that was more because of what she had seen. Because of that she never disciplined them the way the parents did. Instead she made them do exercise or other things like that. But she never laid a harmful hand on us, even if we were being terrible. Sure she would threaten to beat them, never did though. Never could stomach it. They all knew it, and sometimes took advantage of it, other times did not. But they did not usually do that though, because of the respect they had for her.

That didn't stop them from getting into trouble though. Even though he was usually the culprit in the family, May and Halfred seemed to be the ones who really tugged on the strings of their mother. After all, they were the youngest. They bickered and fought all the time with each other. A lot of 'she said this' or 'he took this' back and forth with them. But when they were at their worst was not when they fought each other, but when they agreed with each other. The hobbit remembered times that the young ones would run around in the corn fields and play hide and seek -or so they told their mother. They would usually gallivant off and steal crops from Farmer Maggot. The truly miraculous thing about it though, was that they were never caught. Not even the eyes of his keen brother, Andwise, could spot them when they wanted to be quite and stealthy. They were too quick on their feet to be caught by any of them. And Bilbo was sure they learned that from him.

Often then not, they traveled behind their brother, marching with him wherever he went, and learning from him where they could. Bilbo was known for being a bit of a trouble maker. he wandered off to places he shouldn't, found things in places that if people knew they would think very ill of him. He was a joker, an adventurer, and a wanderer. And he took his sister and brother with him when he could. Sometimes it would be on a small quest or to a place that he had found and thought his brother and sister would like to see it.

Nobody really caught them, but if anybody did it was either their mother or their brother, Hamfast. Their brother looked out for them, but he also kept them in order as well. He usually would stop them and scold them, but mainly Bilbo since he was the cause of it. "You know what will happen if you keep doing this, eventually people won't want to deal with you, and you'll be caught one day." He meant good, but sometimes Bilbo felt as if he cared little for how he felt. And when it came to the youngsters, Bilbo thought they deserved something other than the constant training that their village sometimes did. It was important to keep in shape, to defend yourselves. But that was not all life was, life was so much more.

And Bilbo found it through adventure, through doing things that other hobbits would never do, and he wanted the same for the two other hobbits. He didn't want them to live in constant fear and paranoia. He wanted them to be free. So he taught them how to be, taught them places to have fun in, to go against what they should be, and be what they are. He loved his sister and brother to death, and didn't want anything to happen to them, which nothing would. But sometimes he feared because of their differences that they would be outcasts. He knew he was one and because of that others teased him, hurt him, or they ignored him like his eldest brother, Andwise.

Andwise was the top of everything, top of training and was going to be part of the personal guard of Mirabella. Some even suspected that Jessamine was going to marry him. The shy and beautiful princess to the strong swordsmen. It seemed like a grand fairy tale come true. He admired Andwise for all of that. Sometimes Andwise looked at him the wrong way though, sometimes it was like they weren't even family. Even though he knew that he didn't mean to, that he loved him, that he laughed with him and protected him. It didn't feel like they were blood. Bilbo felt like he was a stranger around him. The only time he ever got any of his brother's attention was when he was being picked on, and he came to help him because he had to. The only way to get any affection from his brother was if and only if he was being hurt. He never wanted that for May and Halfred. Never wanted them to have to deal with people who thought lesser of them because of their difference.

But he took comfort in the thought that they had each other and always would, no matter what. They could be with each other, and that they also had him.

The hobbit was soon pulled from his intimate thoughts though as he felt something land on his shoulder. He then instinctively looked towards the foreign touch. Out of the corner of his eye he could just see a small brown life form that had settled down on his shoulder. Its dark colored wings were now still as it stayed in place. Bilbo smiled towards the tiny creature. It was a moth. The hobbit relished in the moment as he stared down at the tiny being. Its wings open and small limbs steady. He watched the moth for just seconds, and was fascinated by the small thing being. The moth then flapped its wings and with a start it left the hobbit's shoulder, letting the young boy's eager gaze follow it as the life form fluttered away on the breeze.

"Bilbo!" The children shouted as they shook him out of his own mind. he looked down at the two to see worried looks on their faces. "What's the matter?" he questioned them both. They glared at him. "We've been trying to get your attention for the pas coupe of minutes." He winded his eyes in surprise and apologized to them. They shook it off and rolled their eyes at his lethargic attitude as they continued walking ahead of him, whispering things to each other in a time Bilbo could absolutely hear.

"What do you think is wrong with him?" May shrugged at her brother's question. "Maybe, he's sick?" she suggested, but Halfred shook his head. "No, no, I think he's acting funny because of the pipe weed he got the other day." She looked horrified at him. "The pipe weed!" Halfred hushed her. "Yes, the pipe weed, he may be wonky." They both said, nodding. Bilbo sighed, sometimes he wondered if they did it on purpose. "Bilbo!" a shout came. "Mom!" the kids squealed as they saw their mother marching towards them in a rage. "Haven't I told you time and time again, stay where people can see you?!" She hollered as the children hid behind Bilbo. He may have forgotten that rule.

And while they were scolded by their mother, Bilbo had not noticed the moth that fluttered close by them once again, its eyes observing, watching and waiting.


	15. Chapter 15

**Year of 2941**

The introductions came and went.

Everyone had given their name and said their own sort of hello to their new addition into the group, and then moved on their way. Nori was one of the last of them to meet their new comrade. He had bowed as the thief had done to him, and they both exchanged the same 'at your service'. But after that, the thief did not stay for a talk or any sort of friendly actions. He had done the exact same thing with most of the company as well. And even after the greetings he stayed away from the rest of the group.

It seems he was a dwarf of few words.

The Company did not ask many questions nor did they talk to the burglar. After all, he was a stranger and a criminal at that, one that even tried to steal from them. Nori doubted they were in the mood of talking no less trusting the burglar.

The thief was not bothered by this though.

From what Nori could see, he was quite used to solitary, and preferred it to socializing. In fact, he had seen their new dwarf avoiding them whenever he could. The burglar would stick to the outskirts of the group, and never be close to any of the others, not even close to the fire when the nights got cold. He always sat in his corner when they rested, as quiet as a mouse, not bothering the others with small talk or with stories.

But Nori found that he was not totally separate and disinterested in them.

Nori had seen him watch the group from time to time. He would usually sit in his corner, and when the company was laughing, talking and feasting he could see the burglar looking towards them. He watched them with eyes that followed the laughter and the smiling faces, but never joined in. His eyes always searching their faces while he went deep into his mind, drifting. There seemed to be a sort of sadness that befell the man when the nights came and the fire was lit. It was almost like he wanted to sit by it and talk, but he never did.

He was a very different dwarf. Where the others were usually rowdy and ready to show themselves in battle, old or not, he stayed quiet and reserved. When the others would play common dwarf games, he just sat by or walked off, and when there was a fight of swords for practice, he moved away ignoring it. Then, when supper came, he ate off in another area refusing any kind of invitation to have him sit by them. He was very secluded. Sometimes Nori even forgot about the thief, as did many of the group.

But they were always reminded when Dwalin stalked by the burglar or kept a close eye on him. Nobody trusted the burglar as of yet, and Nori had to say that everything he was doing didn't make many want to trust him. Especially Thorin, who from the start had hated the idea of the burglar, no doubt he ordered Dwalin to keep an eye on him as well.

Besides that though, the thief was a well-mannered and calm individual. But, there was something off about him. It was nothing of an evil or alarming nature. It was just something that seemed to weigh him down. There was this sadness that traveled with him like a cloud as he watched the sun go down and curled in the dark far from the group. There was some sort of darkness associated with him that Nori couldn't help but feel as he watched the burglar. He never talked about it though, and he never asked about it. That was a personal area.

Others were not as perceptive or suspicious, but that didn't mean that none of them were. "Does the thief seem a little down to you?" his brother Dori asked one night as he watched the burglar from a far. He turned to his brother, seeing a little bit of concern and curiosity etched into his face in a classic look that Nori knew.

"He is always alone and never talks, but it seems like sometimes ...something terrible happens in his mind...some sadness." He explained as he glanced back at the burglar in pity. He then looked back up at Nori, who patted his back in understanding and then leaned in and whispered, "Best not to say anything about it to him or anyone else. He is that way because he wants to be. No use changing him or telling him something he doesn't want to hear." Nori then looked his brother in the eye, warning him, "Do not place yourself somewhere you should not be, even if you want to." He knew his brother and the way he likes to meddle in others well being. It was nothing bad, and was actually a trait Nori liked about him, but sometimes it can be overbearing. And for the thief, overbearing was intruding.

His elder brother looked back at the burglar, who looked off towards Fîli and Kîli as they laughed and joked. Dori then sighed, nodding. "I think you're right," he added as he ate his soup, "Anyways, he's a dwarf, albeit a young one, but a strong one as well. I'm sure he'll get through it one way or another." Dori nodded in reassurance of himself as he slipped his soup, and then finally noticed how Ori hadn't touched his soup, and began to mother him again.

Nori looked back at the thief then in question as his brother's words drifted through his mind. He was young, wasn't he? His stature did indicate that he couldn't be more than fifty if not less. But an air of maturity was sure to roll off him time and time again. He was far calmer than even Fîli or Kîli, which was strange for a dwarfling, and it seemed he was driven by some purpose, something that made him look forward to the day ahead, like Thorin. The king's purpose was to reclaim a homeland. What was this thief's? Nori turned away from him as his mind swirled around, consumed by the thoughts of this burglar and his mysterious character.

Over that night things were the same. The burglar sat away from the group and the company went along with feasting and resting. The next day though, things got a little out of hand.

They were walking along a path inside the forest, which was set along a steep hill. Their horses were tired, and stayed up most of the night spooked by something. So the let them move inside the front without our weight, and only the luggage on their backs a they lethargically moved. The dwarfs followed beside them leading them or behind them while on the path, with some of the dwarfs whistling as they traveled, and others talked. The thief was near the back, which was per usual and stayed away from the group.

But that day Nori and his brothers were one of the last at the back as well, arguing about past hates as siblings did. "You were kicked out. You did not leave. I had enough dealing with you. I could hardly stand your messes that you made and the constant cleaning up I had to endure. Or the guards in the Blue Mountains always searching the place, and tearing up our rooms, because of whom? Oh, that is right, you." Nori and Dori whispered to each other in harsh tones as Dori pointed a finger towards him in accusation.

Nori huffed out a breath, crossing his arms and retorted, "No, I left because you kept bugging me about those things when I was the only one bringing money into the place, and then you went and bugged me about cleaning the house." Dori shook his head as he glared at Nori and answered, "At least I clean up after myself, and your money is by illegal means. I don't know whose pockets they came from or what trades you made to get it. You never even tried to land a decent job. And if you don't remember, I actually had a job as a waiter at the Tea shop."

Nori rolled his eyes at his brother as he tsked while Ori stood behind his brothers, sighing once again. "Yeah, and how much were you making barely anything to get us by and I actually stuffed some money into your purse here and there, which you never noticed. So you're welcome. And I did clean up my stuff." He stated with a tone of seriousness.

Ori then moved away from his brothers, stepping backwards from them so he wouldn't have to hear them fight, which neither of them noticed as Dori laughingly explained, "You really think I didn't notice? Well, I did, and that money I either gave back to the people I assumed you took it from, or I put it in Ori's savings..." Nori and Dori then rambled on, while Ori got farther away from them.

He kept walking backwards further and further. That was until he slipped. "Ah!" he hollered as he fell on his back and began to slide down the wet hillside. The horses neighed in alarm when they heard the yell, but did not try to bolt. Nori and Dori turned to see their brother slide down. Nori and his elder brother both called out to him, about to run towards him until Nori saw something black move towards his brother.

It was only a moment later he realized it was the thief. Nori stayed at the top for a bit in shock that the thief even reacted, but soon Nori shook out from his surprise, and started gripping on to trees as he tried to move towards the two. Nori could hear his brother Dori following behind, shouting Ori's name as they both raced towards the fast moving figures.

As Nori did though he heard someone from the company shout to the thief. "There is a cliff, catch him quickly!" Nori looked ahead at the cliff, which was farther down, but he were sure was deadly. If the thief didn't catch him soon, or get a hold on a tree, they would both die. Nori shared a look with his brother in that moment seeing the same prayer being sent to Mahal that he too sent in the expression on his face.

Nori began to move faster. All the while, he could see the thief sliding down the hill as he was inches away from Ori. Nori could see the thief and his brother were a few feet away from the cliff though, and Nori knew that it was then or never that the thief could catch him. And like clockwork, the burglar grabbed onto Ori's leg and grabbed on to a tree, with all his might, most likely scrapping his palm on the bark of it. But he didn't yell nor groan in pain, all of his energy was focused on saving Ori.

Nori was close to them as he saw that Ori's hand dangled over the cliff as he fidgeted in the grip of the thief's. He kept trying to reach for a tree to hold his own on, but Nori knew that would only end badly as he moved faster towards them, being careful to cling on to the trees for support. He could hear the burglar quell his brother's behavior with a harsh, "Knock it off or you're dead!" which ceased all of Ori's efforts.

Nori was a few feet away now, and he could hear Dori not so far behind him, breathing frantically. The burglar then looked up to Nori when he was finally close by him, holding desperately onto a tree. Nori could hear the thief's labored breathing as he reached out to the thief, but the burglar shook his head. "Get your brother," he stated as he strained to hold on to him.

Nori needed nothing further as he nodded, and told Dori to stay by the thief while he moved down closer to the edge. He was able to get to a tree that was right on the edge of the cliff implanted in side ways, letting a horizontal plane be made. He climbed on to the tree, forcing himself not to look down until he had too, but he could see the huge drop, and he knew if they failed, they'd all die. With adrenaline in his heart,he reached a hand out to Ori. "Come on," Nori spoke as beckoned him and Ori reached back up towards his hand, eyes filled to the brim with fear.

After a few fateful seconds of failure, their hands came together in triumph. Nori gave a shout that he had him, as he wrapped his legs around the tree, hoping to the strength of Mahal that it did not break under his weight. The thief shouted back, and with warning let go of his leg. Ori then dangled mercilessly in the air as Nori tried to get up, and he almost didn't, but with as much strength as he could muster he was able to pull his brother up.

Nori backed up a little as his brother was able to climb some of the way up on the tree. And when he wrapped his legs around the tree,Nori breathed a sigh of relief and exhaustion. He was safe. He hugged his little brother, whispering in his ear how much trouble he was in for not being careful. "Can we leave now?" his brother asked after he finished his slight speech. And he nodded, warning him that Dori will have more. He knew though. Thank Mahal he's safe.

Nori then looked back to see the thief was trying to get up, holding onto a tree with his muscular arms as Dori stayed nearby, holding a hand out. The thief did not take the gesture of help though and ignored it as he moved himself up further. And when he was safely clinging to a tree, he looked back at Nori. In that moment, Nori saw relief pass over his eyes as he looked to Ori and him and he saw the tension in him ease. And when the thief glanced back at him, Nori nodded to him in respect while his brother waited patiently back for him, worry and concern still etched in his frowning face. The thief merely nodded back, and then started to walk back up the hill.

Nori then worked his way up with Ori to the awaiting company that cheered and breathed sighs of relief as they marched up, carefully. And when they reached the top they heard sounds of gratefulness, and received hugs of friendship. "Thank mahal," some said as they crowded around them, helping them up as they did. Oin came by checking them and asking if any were hurt, but none needed his medical attention or at least none that spoke there.

It was then that Nori's elder brother watched as the Burglar stalked off. He quickly went over to him, calling his name as the others paid more attention to Ori and Nori, scolding the youngest, and complementing the elder. But Nori didn't see his elder brother slip his way towards the burglar until it was too late. "My word, do you have a sound in you?" Dori had questioned, shouting, quieting everyone as they turned their heads towards the thief.

"I am trying to thank you for my brother." Dori declared as all eyes were on the burglar now, and the thief knew it. The thief just stood there though, glaring at him. Dori tsked and he shook his head. "You're bleeding, let me help you." He said as he went over to the thief's mask, unknowing of the quiet audience behind him.

Nori could feel the tension, and he saw as Thorin, walked to the front of the group, his eyes untrusting and his structure demanding as he watched the scene unfolded with unblinking eyes. Dwalin had also taken close residence to the front of the group, but he did not judge so harshly with his eyes as Thorin did. It was obvious he was distrusting though, for he grew a frown and clenched his fists in tension.

Nori watched as his elder brother reached out to take the mask off, but just then the burglar reacted instantaneously. He took his wrist in a viper grip and held it up. Everyone held their breath. Nori knew that Dori was the strongest in their group. He could lift almost anything and had the most muscles. Even Dwalin could not compare to his brother's strength. But on that day, Dori visibly shook.

The burglar was steady as he held his brother's wrist, his muscles exposed to the day air as he held it up in defiance. And scars that covered his arm gleamed in the sunlight. They were long gashes and on that clear day no one asked where he got them, but later they would all wonder, just as Nori pondered.

Tensions grew high then, and at the grab of the hand, Nori and others took their swords out. All training their gazes on the burglar as they tried to anticipate what he was about to do next. Every dwarf reacted the same way. All with hands going to weapons and looks of mistrust forming over their faces. Every single one of the dwarfs had their hands on their weapons, waiting. Gandalf was the only one not too keen on pointing weapons anywhere, and instead stayed off to the side, observing.

Nori watched with trepidation, and a glint of resentment forming in his gut as he looked at the thief. But then he saw that the thief's gaze wavered over to him for a split second. And there he could see his eyes. They looked like burning embers as a fire seemed to dance across them. There was anger in them that the dwarf never thought anyone could possess. It was hatred pure and simple and the dwarf wondered why he had such hate. He pondered on what the thief had endured to have that kind of rage in his eyes. Nori's heart raced as those fiery eyes rested on him. The blaze in those eyes were treacherous and yet achingly lonely. The eyes soon turned back to his brother though.

And as the burglar focused his eyes on him, he also brought Dori in a little closer, raising alarm to the others that looked to Thorin or each other, wondering what they should do should things escalate. As they waited there though, the horses neighing in the background, the thief spoke a few words to the dwarf. "Do. Not. Touch. My. Mask." the burglar's tone had gone deadly, and held venom that not even Orc's could possess. Dori nodded in stark understanding and fear. The thief spared on more look up and then set down at him before he let go of his arm.

Sighs could be heard from all around and the situation was stilled. Tense muscles were then turned to relived limbs. Swords were sheathed and axes were lowered, but some did not put them away.

The thief then walked, stalking off into the woods. But one would not let him go so soon."Where are you going?" a dwarf, Thorin, asked. The thief stopped, but he did not turn as he answered him. "I'll keep up, king, just be sure that you don't get into trouble in these woods." He said, turning. "Foul things lurk here." He warned, and left them alone in a still state, until finally Thorin said that they should get a move on. So everybody did and left the thief, but Nori couldn't help but wonder what that thief was hiding under that mask.** Was it a face? Or was it far more than just that?**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Thank you Wraven for telling me this was in code. I did not even see that. I don't know why it turned out like that. But anyways, sorry about the late update. I usually do it every Monday but life got in the way and other things. I hope you guys had a good Thanksgiving. Enjoy, comment, smile! :D


	16. Chapter 16

**?**

He remembered many things about his family. But the one thing he would never forget was his father's words. "Son, out there is a world of things ready to eat out. Out there is a world that can trample and harm you beyond means. Don't say you want an adventure until you understand the cost." That was one of the first things his father had said to him, or at least the first thing he remembered him saying to him. His father was always mute, always. He barely spoke, played or did anything of the such. He told him of the time they traveled the lands, only because he was coaxed by mother though and even that was few and rare in occasions. Besides that though, he was never said much. But that was not his fault. His mind was plagued by nightmares, deep scares in his sleep that his ma said no man should endure. Bilbo could sometimes hear him, screaming in the middle of the night to be hushed and soothed by his mother. He wondered what his father dreamed about that scared him so. But his father never said anything about the war, until the day he asked what scared him so in his dreams.

"I see the people who died on the field, son. I see how many lay dead, and I see those monsters I fought coming for me in my sleep." They were outside in the sun and looking over the fields as they watched from a high hill the farmers working, the guards for the queen training, and other blokes who decided to learn how to fight and defend themselves as well as small children, while the close markets ran a muck with people, looking at foreigners with suspicious gazes that dared stumble into their secluded lands. Right then Bilbo realized that fear is what drove his people. That in light of the war, the rejections of others, they had all grown wary, afraid, casting glances on anything and anyone suspicious. No longer were they the glee filled hobbits of tales that his mother and father told. All of them had been washed of that innocence from the day that the land of sorrows came to be.

Bilbo reached out to his father's hand and held it. For he had no words to wash away his fears, he could only provide support and understanding. But his actions spoke volumes it seemed since his father then started to cry. He had never seen any of the men do so. He had seen the women cry as they held onto their men when they had festivals and remembrance days for the war, and the land of shadows, but never had he seen a man cry. They all held sturdy faces and stoic expressions, never divulging their true feelings. His mother sometimes looked like that, but he had even seen her cry before. And he realized why then, it was easier to forget about it, to pretend it didn't happen then to face emotions, to let the pain through. There was a terrible cost to that though, the cost of relationships and other things as well.

Now all those years he had never forgiven his father for not uttering a word because of that bloody war, faded away in sympathy and understanding of a kind he never thought he could achieve. But he also learned something on that day. Those who hide their fears, woes and sadness are the ones that have endured something of a kind that hurts too much to remember or show. And he became scared of the world that day, became scared of its cruelty as his father cried beside him, and all he could do was hold his hand. But he also pondered as he felt a small insect's wings flutter past him if he would ever truly understand his father's pain. He hoped he never would, but as the wind shifted towards him and clouds hung above, blocking out the sun, he knew that nobody ever got what they wanted out of life. It was chance and fate that ruled such things, and who is cruelest but them.


	17. Chapter 17

**Year of 2941**

The day was fair as they traveled through the hills and forests on their horses. All of the dwarfs, keeping quiet or entertaining themselves as much as they could while on horseback, for the days seemed to be blurring together, and grew to be bleak sometimes. And after the incident with the thief and Dori, they needed a little bit of fun to ease their way on this journey, lest tension be made. So they made their own fun, increasing the amount they did and soothing their own worries of the thief. Though they were as wary as ever of him, especially Dori. He ignored the thief, stayed out of his way, and though he did not gossip about him, he did glare at him any chance he got.

But anyone could see that Dori also was, at times, a bit gentler with the thief, like he hated, but pitied the burglar. It was strange the way he acted towards him and Gandalf could see this better than anyone as he sat away from the group, often being ignored by the dwarfs or even more forgotten by them than the thief.

He could see how Dori hated the thief with his glares and his glances, but other times, like in the night, he also pitied him. Stranger than that was the fact that Nori had been observing the thief more than anyone who was just wary would. He seemed to have a growing interest in him, as Gandalf now did. Since the day he met him he had realized that this thief had seen things, been places and endured much. The growing question in his mind though, was what? What had the thief endured?

But it was not his place to pry, not his place to observe or intervene really, unless there was cause of threat of course. But there was no cause, as much as the thief stayed away from them, was secluded and acted like a potential enemy, he was not. He had helped Ori, and hadn't stolen from any of the dwarfs. Even when the thief seemed to threaten Dori, it in fact would not have turned into the altercation that they thought it would. That thief was many things undoubtedly, but he was not a cold blooded killer or someone who could easily harm someone like Dori. And he knew this because he knew those eyes of his, they reminded him of someone he once knew, they had the same kindness, hope and strength as the ones he remembered. And even though they be from different lands, races and customs, he knew they were alike. He would bet his life on it. He would not have picked him if he thought otherwise.

So his attention did not stay to the thief, but instead drifted more towards Thorin. He worried about the dwarf, he worried for what his hates would bring him and what his heart would do once it reached that mountain of solitude. Would it stay true, or would it be faulty as his fathers before him had been? he did not know, and he wondered if he wanted to know of such an answer. And with the place they had to go to for answers, he wondered if the king could let the past go so that they could look forward to the future. Dwarfs never forgot though, and were too quick to live in the past than to truly think of the future.

"I think this is efficient enough," Thorin said as he sat on his pony beside a broken down house that seemed to have been torn away by weather, and possibly something dangerous. The group began to stop, untying their horses and getting ready to set up their camp here. But Gandalf could not do such things as of yet, he had to have a discussion with the king. The wizard dismounted from his horse, moving towards Thorin with determination. "Thorin," he said when he go to the king that had too dismounted from his steed, and began to walk around their chosen spot for the night. Thorin looked at Gandlaf, glancing around the place as he did. He barely looked at him though, wanting more to ignore him, for Thorin already knew what he was going to ask. He shook his head at the wizard. "No," he told Gandalf who raised an eyebrow at him in offence. "No," the wizard bellowed in a deep insulted voice. "Can you read the map?" he questioned the dwarf. The king stumbled over the question and instead pushed the comment of the wizard to the side, ignoring it.

"It does not matter; we will not travel to Rivendell." The wizard formed a scowl on his face at the dwarven king's words and his stubbornness. "So you intend on going to the Lonely Mountain and not knowing where to go or how to find the door, you might as well forget the journey all together!" The wizard shouted finally making the dwarven king see reason, even if his eyes still looked back at the past. But that fire was still burning in the dwarf king. That fire of hate that he could not look past, and that pride which was as grand as the Lonely Mountain itself. The king still shook his head though. "I am are there are other folk who understand it for us. We need not indulge the company of the elves for such a thing Gandalf." he said with a tint of a commanding voice, making it his final decision.

"Why indeed." A voice agreed readily with the king. Gandalf looked back to see the thief, standing behind him, leaning against a piece of the house as he observed the lands, facing away from Gandalf. "Have you been?" the king suddenly questioned and the burglar nodded as he turned towards them, his cloak pulled back on one side as his sword showed from under it. "Yes," he said with bitterness in his voice. "And how did they fare?" Thorin asked and the burglar answered the king. "I would rather dine with an Orc." And that seemed to put a stop on all their thoughts as they heard the utter hate behind the thief's voice. It poured off like poison. The thief said nothing more about what he thought of the elves, but instead added a side note. "That is only my opinion though." He then moved away from them, leaving Gandalf in thought as to the hate behind his voice. But the wizard thought of it was the simple hate all dwarfs had, though it seemed much more than just that.

He looked at the king, and saw that same stubbornness in them as he said, "None of the company will want to go, and neither do I. We will find someone else." He simply said as he moved away from Gandalf, and though anger moved through the wizard, he couldn't help but ponder on why the thief had such hatred in him. And once again he asked himself what the thief had endured to become what he was now.


	18. Chapter 18

**Year of 2911**

Bilbo felt something on his lips. It was a little warm, but as it was tipped in his mouth, he felt the fresh water drip inside his mouth. He gripped the container it was in and began to gulp. But the container was soon taken away from him. "Drink slowly lest you have bile in your mouth." He was told and he nodded, his eyes still closed as the container was brought to his mouth once again.

Then he drank slow and steady as his mouth started feeling moist again, his tongue became swollen and stomach ached a bit, but feeling that water rushing through him was the best thing he had felt in days. He took a long breath, pulling the sweet nectar away from his lips as he strength to open his eyes returned to him. He looked up, holding his hand over the sun's glare to find himself in the arms of a man. "Are you alright, Bilbo?" the man questioned, but Bilbo did not answer. He didn't know who this was.

He moved away, or at least tried to, but the man pulled him back effortlessly. "No, don't move. You are very dehydrated. It is better if you stay still Bilbo, just rest." The hobbit looked up to the man, staring into his hood. "Who are you?" he groaned out from his dry, and scratchy throat. The man smirked. "I have many names." Bilbo looked at him strangely, his eyebrows furrowed as eyes narrowed until he remembered who he was. The ranger of the mountains.

"You are alive," he whispered to him. The man nodded and just as the hobbit was about to speak he hushed him. "Sleep, Bilbo, there will be time for questions later. Please, close your eyes and sleep. I will care for you." The hobbit looked at the man, mistrust in his eyes, but he couldn't help to give in to the offer. His eyes were heavy, his muscles tired and bones exhausted. So he shrank into the man, falling asleep once again. But before he closed his eyes he saw that moth, flying about, watching, waiting.


	19. Chapter 19

**Year of 2941**

The day soon fell into night as the company settled down, tying their horses close by and unloading their blankets. They then rested in the abandoned house with a fire warming them and cooking their dinner. The company then sat and ate soup as they talked amongst themselves and laughed merrily with each other over past tales and memories. But as always, the thief stayed away from the group, to the edges of their camp, and far away from any of them. He lay on his back against a post, looking into the fire's depths while the rest of them carried on their conversations. But bright eyes watched him from afar as he sat alone, isolated and they observed him, pondering on the hooded and masked figure. The king narrowed his gaze as he eyed him. The dwarf had been watching him for a while, ever since he had interrupted his conversation with Gandalf and gave him that advice.

_"I would rather dine with an Orc." _

Thorin glanced at the thief with scrutiny as the other dwarfs went on singing. He knew the thief had lied then, knew he had intervened falsely, but he would avoid Rivendell nevertheless. There were too many things that may happen there to hinder the quest than to help it, and even Ganndalf knew that. But the reason why he looked at him so now, is because he wondered why exactly the thief hated these elves so much. Though dwarfs had a known reputation for hatred towards elves, he had never seen a fire quite so bright like the one the thief had. Whatever this was, it was not just because of the blood hatred between their races, but because of something personal.

He had no doubt in his mind about that, but the question came now was what had happened. That was an area he doubted he would be able to make known, nor did he really want to, such things were private and meant only for those who bear this secret. Still, he couldn't help but wonder as his mind began to race with different conclusions, all pointing to the same thing.

_The only thing that would warrant such hatred is death._

"Thief," a voice called, causing Thorin to look away from the mysterious thief over to the timid dwarf, Ori. Thorin raised an eyebrow as he watched, interested as he saw the dwarf look at the thief shyly while he asked in a low tone of uncertainty, "Do you have any songs that you remember?" The thief stared at the dwarf, the fire crackling as he contemplated and all the other dwarfs stared at him, waiting, half of them shocked and the other half intrigued.

The thief's gaze was steady on the dwarf's as he sat there in thought while the other dwarf waited there patiently. Eventually, the thief's gaze became softer as he nodded, saying, "I do," surprising Thorin and the rest of the company who looked at each other with astonished gazes. Ori beamed at the thief as he then asked, "Would you sing it to us?" Thorin furrowed his eyebrows, feeling the cool night air as the burglar hesitated, looking away from the others for a moment. Thorin was confused as the thief said nothing to them, only looking off into the distance of the forest.

_Why such hesitation?_

"I'll sing." The thief finally said as he then turned back to them. Ori smiled at him, nodding with soft, kind eyes. Thorin looked over all of the company then to see their eyes were on the thief, and everything was quiet as they waited for their mysterious and eluding burglar to sing them a song.

The thief sighed just before he started to sing, and when he did, it was with an enchanting, bewitching voice._"Queen Belladonna is dead. Her blood spilled on the battle ground. The victor dead, the victory turned cold. Our Fallen Queen, whose trust fell through. And never again will ours."_ The burglar stopped and none of the dwarfs spoke. The dwarf who asked could not even find words as he looked sadly down at the ground, Thorin gaped at the burglar seeing the sadness, but also satisfaction resting with his eyes. Thorin viewed the group to see grim faces on everyone, and listened to the long silence that came after. The small wind was heard as it passed by them, brushing against their fire as he began to shrink at its force. And the crickets in the summer night seemed to continue, though, listening to their silent conversation. No one wished to break the quiet that had been placed by the thief like a heavy blanket over all of them.

But there was one who eventually spoke, and he spoke in horror. "Where did you hear that song?" The wizard asked in a deep and troubled tone as he looked at the burglar with wide eyes. The thief turned to the wizard in surprise, narrowing his eyes towards him before he spoke. "I heard it from around." He confessed, but the wizard shook his head. "I know where that song comes from and it most certainly could not have been uttered from just anyone else's mouth." Thorin was shocked at the wizards words that he spoke with such astonishment and terror, as if he had just encountered a ghost.

The burglar stared at the wizard with disdain clear in his eyes as he slowly stood. "I heard it from a man." The burglar said quickly, but the wizard shot another accusing tone at him. "Don't try to fool me with that myth." He said and stood up as well, walking over to the thief. The burglar glared at him, his hand reaching back for his sword as the wizard drew nearer. "Tell me where you heard of this song?!" The wizard demanded as the other members of the company stared on in confusion and bemusement. The king cocked his head as he prepared to stand, looking over at Dwalin to see him already gripping his axes as he stared at the two, but then turned to him, nodding to him as a signal he was ready. Thorin looked back at the two, waiting to see what would happen, for now.

The thief, he could tell was angered as he looked at the old man. And he gave out his answer to him in a deathly voice filled with bitter hate and loathing as he glowered at the wizard. "It was from my dead mentor." He simply stated, silencing the old man as he held a sheepish look. Everything went deadly still as the fire rose a new, a falling log crumbling as it burned in the depths of the orange flames. Thorin looked back at Dwalin to see him, easing away from his axes, and Thorin nodded in encouragement as he too settled back, though with a heavy heart as he saw the thief turn away from the others.

Gandalf seemed ashamed at himself as he realized his mistake, and looked down sadly at the back of the burglar. "I am sorry." The old wizard said as he stood still and with embarrassment at his reaction. He then sat back down in his place, remaining silent. No person moved as the wizard and thief steadied themselves. "That song," Gandalf said, breaking the silence once again, "do you know where it comes from?" He asked, not looking at the small creature. The burglar looked down at the ground, his back turned to them all for a long while before he answered him. "No," the burglar said in a whisper of despair. The wizard then sighed, nodding as he leaned against a tree and looked off into the dark of the night. His mind was taken away with some distant thought at that moment, but it wasn't long before his softened gaze turned to the burglar. He then smiled; it was a small, sad smile. One that the dwarf had not seen before and the wizard nodded, "It is better it stayed that way," he said to him and then looked off into the distance again, ignoring all.

The burglar did not say anything else to the wizard. Instead, he stood still for a few seconds, his gaze fixed on the ground. Then he quickly walked away, mumbling something under his breath. The others could not hear. They were too far from the burglar, but Thorin did as he walked past him. "It is better." he grumbled as he moved away from the group. Every dwarf stayed quiet while they watched the burglar lurk off into the distance, into the forest.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Finally! I have rewritten this chapter like five or four times now and I have finally finished it to the point where it actually feels right! Yay! I am so happy! Really sorry about me being out this long. Things kept popping up that I had to attend to first. And in leave of my absence, I will make up those days. So I missed two days, so guess what? You guys get four more chapters! And I may just put in a few extras because it is the holidays, but also because I want to get to a certain point in this story so I could see what you guys thought of it. I hope you guys are having a great break! And thank you for the followers and favorites! :D


	20. Chapter 20

**Year of 2926**

The Tavern was filled with laughter while the people boasted and toasted to the day, or drank their sorrows away in the hours of the night. It boomed with noises and sounds of jubilation while violins played with ease in the tavern's wooded walls, the bow moving across the strings, and preforming a lively tune for everyone to dance and sing to. Men and women shouted, talking to each other and laughing as they cheered on the musicians or discussed dealings of different sorts.

But in a certain corner of the tavern, through the walls of drunken men and cooing women, a small figure sat in a chair with his boots up on the table as he observed the men. The hooded figure had his arms crossed, showing off the strong muscles as the beings of the place passed by, uninterested and some even blind to him. He sat alone in the corner, his eyes moving around the room, watching the revelry of the men who told bombastic stories or intrepid tales, searching. But the being sighed, his disappointed gaze lingering on them.

_He was late._

The creature did not fret over it too much though. He knew that travel delayed many, and that the man he waited for may not be here for days or weeks. You never knew what sort of things would happen out on the roads. It was no matter though, he would wait. Though, he had hoped that the man would have come earlier, if only to see him after so long a time.

_"I have many names."_

The small creature smiled under his cloth.

It had been a long time since those days in Halcyon, nearing fifteen years now, if Bilbo remembered correctly. But it seemed like just yesterday he had been rescued from the claws of death, looking up at his savior. Back then he would have never thought that he could end up here, traveling the world, seeing marvelous and dangerous things that some people never got to see in their life.

In his fifteen years of living with Evon he had been from the Iron Hills to the Elven home of Rivendell and almost everywhere in between. He had seen many places, done numerous thing and learned so much. He could tell you tales of the many sights he had seen such as the wonders of the elf's halls and how they shimmered in the light of the moon and sun, glamouring all who saw it, how the dwarf halls paled in comparision with the shimmering beauty, but made up for it with the extent and enormous length of their own halls, as well as their magnificent carvings.

Evon always brought him to places trading goods and supplies where ever he had to to get by. It was what he did, he was a tradesman, but preferred to be called a Ranger. He was born in the West, amongst the other rangers, but moved from there to the east to travel and trade. That was one of the reasons they called him ranger of the mountains as a child, he always dreamed of traveling over them, away from that place. He was a lot like Bilbo in many ways with adventure and personality, and due to this they became very close now, like family.

But in the beginning of his adventure with Evon it was not as peaceful and good between them. It was a nightmare. When they had first encountered each other, Bilbo had many things in life, loved many people, but during their other encounters, he had lost everything. The shock of it all hadn't really hit him until he was awoken from his deathly slumber. He had cried for nights, days, even and Evon was there, but sometimes Bilbo resented him, blamed him for all that had occurred.

No matter how harsh Bilbo's words were to the man, no matter how many times he tried to run, though, Evon always was there for him, holding him and hushing him to a calm state. "Hush, ion." He would say, soothing him with lullabies as he drifted to blissful sleep. His mentor would sing songs in foreign languages and his own, so beautifully that Bilbo couldn't help but become calm. Evon's steady voice always brought him back as he rested in his sturdy arms and felt peace fall upon him away from his damning nightmares.

Things changed between them, slowly and frustratingly, but surely. With time, Bilbo was able to let down his defenses, become something more as he spent his time with Evon. And Evon grew into a father, a mentor of sorts. There was no other term for it. He loved him as much as a son loved his father and he knew it was the same in reverse.

"Excuse me," a lady said, capturing the creature's attention as a woman, much taller than him, came over and gave him his order. "One soup for you, Master dwarf," She said, her auburn hair falling over her shoulders as she leaned over, showing off her cleavage. Bilbo nodded to her. "Thank you," the hobbit replied politely as he took the bowl from her, uncrossing his arms. The woman nodded without out another word and walked away in a haste as she shuffled through the thick crowds.

The hobbit then smiled under his scarf as he watched her go.

Ever since he had left Halcyon, Bilbo had to dress a certain way so that he would seem to be a dwarf, if he did not, a mere sighting of him would cause an uproar. Changelings weren't welcome anymore ever since the days the shire fell, and that is mostly because were they came, orcs were never too far behind. And their kings and lords would never allow it, in fear of the orcs and other tellings of them as word spread they were diseased or monsters. But nowadays they were thought of as myths.

No one has seen or heard of them for around fifty three years.

In Halcyon, some brave travelers came through the village, but that was few if any. They were usually thrown out over time, or forced out, by people unwilling to help or buy from them. They then spread rumors about how terrible they were, exaggerating as it passed down. Now no one goes there, and to speak of it today is as bad as speaking of a curse. This made his ruse easier as no one had seen a hobbit for a long time, and most would rather forget them.

The man sighed as he brought his feet down, leaning over his soup as he smelled it, feeling his mouth wet at the delicious soup. He didn't eat it though, waiting until he felt hungry enough to delve into the soup and then finally rest. He sighed as he sat back, thinking about past memories as the night went by and he scanned the crowds of men. His mind was soon brought back to a town as he remembered other places where men dwelled. He smirked in thought.

Bilbo had always been fond of a couple special places in the east of Middle-Earth, but the place he loved the most was Esgaroth, Lake Town. Evon made frequent visits there when Bilbo was younger for trade and other things. But there were other reasons they visited the town, and it was for a personal matter.

The ranger was not all alone in this world as the tales had it. He was not a soul wandering the wilds with not a family in sight or a place to call his own. He did have what he would call a home, a family besides Bilbo. In Lake town there was a friend, a man by the name of Iwar, who Evon looked at as a brother. He was a man who had given Evon shelter many times over and even helped him from the Master of Lake Town's wrath. He never liked Evonebing here, only because he sometimes stirred things within the citizens, making them think for themselves. More than once the master of Lake Town had his eyes on Evon, wanting his head on a plate and his voice silenced. Iwar had saved him, though by covering and watching out for him. Naturally, they both grew as thick as thieves when he stayed there for long periods, sometimes the whole winter months, and they both devised plans against the Master.

Iwar also had a son, a boy by the name of Bard. And Bilbo looked at him as if he too was his own brother, or at least a close friend.

It had taken Bilbo a while to open up to the prospect of friendship, having lost so much, but Bard too was tough and hard to befriend, cold as a wintry night because of the loss of his own mother. They both shared this though, and become friends faster than even Evon had predicted or thought possible.

When he was a child, they would battle each other and play in the streets of Lake town together all the time, or sit and talk over many things. And those were the moments Evon would sit down, at both of their requests, and tell them about adventures and tales of wondrous places. His mentor was always happy to share his tales with them. He told them of the halls of Moria, of trolls and other places east of the Misty Mountains. The things Evon had done and seen left Bilbo flabbergasted and amazed. But there was one story that Bilbo always remembered.

The tale was about a creature that Evon called Gollum. His mentor was once traveling over the Misty Mountains, on his way to Rohan, but there he was delayed by Stone Giants. They were in the midsts of their thunder battle as the rumors foretold, throwing rocks that they took from the mountains at one another in an epic battle. Ducking for cover from the winds, rain and enormous rocks, his mentor had come upon a cave. He took shelter in there, away from the dangerous happenings of the outside world. But just when he thought all was good, in the depths of this cave, a creature then moaned out in woeful cries.

Even now Bilbo could still remember how his mind took off in a whirlwind of imagination as his mentor described this gut wrenching cry to the two of them.

He just thought about being in that dark cave, drenched and cold. When all the sudden, in the darkness, where the light could not touch, a screeching and deafening howl cut across the silence in the cave. No light was provided for your eyes to see, and no comfort came from the cold stone as you shivered.

There had been legends that told of cries from a ghost within the Misty Mountains, but none were brave enough to venture towards that ghastly cry. That was until his mentor came and unintentionally inspected it for himself. He crept into the gloom of the cave, not knowing what creature lay before him or what sight he would witness.

Then there, in the gloom of the cave, he saw a creature.

He proceeded to tell them about the creature and his body. He spoke of how Gollum was very skinny, that you could count every rib in his sides and every bump from his spine. The two of them gasped as they imagined this creature. He had no clothes on, except for a thin piece of cloth that lay loosely on his hips.

While Evon hid, observing the creature, he heard it crying over something. "My precious, what's wrong, precious?!" It wept towards something that lay in his hand, which he rocked back and forth. "Precious," he said gently towards it, caressing the thing. "Tell Gollum what's wrong, what's wrong, why do you not work?!" It screeched, wailing once again.

His mentor furrowed his eyebrows at the creature in confusion as he saw it, holding something gently and with care. But as he stayed there, the creature soon spotted him, glaring at him with big blue eyes as he snarled. In that instant, he took his sword out. The creature growled, coming towards him with a crazed look in his eyes. Within a matter of minutes, his mentor and the creature were deep in battle.

"What happened?" A Bard inquired as he looked at his mentor in anticipation. "I killed him," and though they both sighed, the man did not share the same response. Instead, the Ranger looked somberly at them, and a gray cloud seemed to settle in his mind.

"But," he stated with a rigid tone that Bilbo had never heard before, quickly their smiles faltered, "there was something in his eyes that made me think he wanted me to kill him." Both of them looked at him confused. "What was it?" Bilbo asked with a timid voice. Then, after a long while, the man finally responded, his voice just above a whisper

"I saw loneliness." Sadness engulfed his features, making him look older beyond his years. "He seemed like he wanted someone to end him. He wanted somebody to end his torture of being alone, going mad in his seclusion and holding on to what he called his 'precious'." Bilbo did not quite understand it before nor could he truly fathom it.

The feeling that he mentioned was perplexing, but now he understood it.

When Bilbo was now alone, looking up at the vast sky with his mentor gone from his side; he understood it. When he was thinking back to the days he felt lost and alone, emotionally; he could understand the creature. Loneliness was the worst thing for anyone, and his mentor seemed to know this. He knew this all too well.

Now that Bilbo looked back, he remembered those eyes of Evon and that deep heart aching sadness within those hues. His mentor had known seclusion very intimately. He had never had a home or a place to call home. He never had fond memories of being by a hearth with a mother singing, and a father working. Both his parents had died, his father had killed by an orc and his mother passed away when he was very young, with her only gift to him, a lullaby. He was left to fend for himself, without a soul in the world. That kind of isolation is something that he could understand and relate to now that he had seen the world, and been through so much.

Bilbo hadn't known this about the man, had only known that he had been raised with the Dunedains. He didn't know all the horrors that had accompanied it. But the hobbit now comprehended the inner workings of the man, and he respected him for it as well.

Back then though, they did not understand the moral or theme of the story at the time, much to young to really grasp it. They just sat there and pondered. So after a while, Bard had left to bed, thanking Evon for the story, and telling Bilbo Goodnight. When his friend had gone to sleep he had then asked Evon, "Why'd you tell that tale?" The man had looked at him with an unreadable expression as he answered, "Because one day I will not be here anymore, one day you will have to understand some of the things I have done in my life and comprehend why I did certain things." He spoke with a very pessimistic voice and a downward gaze. The hobbit opened his mouth, about to speak, when a hand was raised to silence him. "Enough," Evon said plainly and walked away, brazenly pushing past Bilbo. That was the first time he had treated him so coldly. It was the first and the last, but Bilbo never forgot.

The hobbit watched with lethargic eyes as the was brought back to the present as the men in the tavern conversed over some dwarfs being in town. "I hear the great dwarfs from Ered Lûinare out there right now at the forges working metal for any who can pay!" They gossiped as another joined in. "Aye, and I hear that they've got tons of customers lin' up. I think I may visit them forges me'self and finally get me ax and sword fixed!" The others grunted in accord as another come in saying, "After three moons, and you almost gettin' your bloody arse bitten by a Warg, it's about time!" The table erupted in a fit of laughter then, leaving others to glare at them or join in as they eavesdropped on the conversation.

Bilbo smirked at the discussion.

Dwarfs were never a rare sight to see in these parts of Rohan or other towns where jobs were plentiful for dwarfs. It was just that you had to catch them in the right place at the right time. They moved often and never stayed in one area for too long. But anywhere they went, word spread throughout the town, and within a day's time, their forges were stocked full of orders. And Bilbo couldn't fathom why not. To have a dwarf work on your sword was a blessing indeed. You'd never find anyone more suitable to work on it than a dwarf.

The hobbit ran his hand over his blade that was sheathed on his hip, smiling.

Bilbo had once had the opportunity to have his blade refurbished by a dwarf before. It was a grand sight to see him working away on metal, and he had stared, mesmerized for long hours at the dwarf's work smashing the hammer over and over again, then examining the sword to make sure it was being set in the right shape. His hands just worked like a clock. He knew when to place the blade back in the burning fire, and he knew when to start working on it once again. But all too soon the dwarf doused his blade in the water, giving it a slight nod as he told it that it just needed to cool off. When it did, the sword came out looking brand new, magnificent and deadly beautiful.

"This blade is a very nice piece for your size, and a rare beauty among Mens' swords. And this carving here at the end, on the pommel with the one line that splits into three, that means protection as well as various similar things. But I will tell you this, the steel is in very good shape, and the blade is actually made out of mithril, but don't tell anybody that. Also, the sword's fuller actually has a few engravings on it, from a time before, and the person who covered it up did a very bad job of it. At first, I thought nothing of it, but I took a closer look and it says ashmâr. If I didn't know better, I would have thought this was made by a dwarf, but I do and a man made this, but with the elements of a dwarf. How strange is that?" the dwarf had questioned him as he pointed out everything to him on the sword.

"By the way, how did you come by this?" he finally asked as he looked at him with a calculated and curious gaze.

The hobbit had shrugged as he responded to him, "I came by it by a man who traveled around and was a friend of a friend of mine. So I could not really tell you." The dwarf nodded, sighing as he looked over it. "Well, it is a mysterious blade, what are you going to call her?" the hobbit had looked at him, confused. "Her?" he had asked and the dwarf nodded. "Why, yes. You have to name her, or him, if you so choose." The boy looked over the sword, pondering as he knew the word engraved on the hilt, ashmâr, meant protection, and he was considering just naming it that, but he thought of a different name.

"How about Beria?" he questioned, knowing it too meant to protect, as he looked to the dwarf who smiled.

"Beria," the dwarf repeated as he looked over the blade to the boy, and then he nodded. "It suits it." He acknowledged. Bilbo smiled beneath his mask and handed the dwarf his coins, but just before the dwarf turned back to leave him, he asked, "Would you mind looking at a dagger for me?" The dwarf raised an eyebrow at him in question, but he nodded. The hobbit then took out the knife that Evon had given him long ago, curious as to the origins and materials used to make it.

The dwarf eyed it suspiciously as he spoke. "This looks to be an elvish knife, it's curved like one of theirs, but the thickness of the metal makes me think it had some dwarfish influence as well." He then held the handle and furrowed his eyebrows. "It is most definitely too short a handle to be set for an elf to grip it, and it is a bit too thin for a dwarf, but around there for a young one." He then held the tip of it gently and looked at the carving on it. "It's in elvish, I can't read what it says." The dwarf explained, ignoring that part as he went on.

He then examined it some more before he finally gave it back, frowning. "It is a very neat weapon, sharp and fine, but it seems that it was made especially for you, a young dwarf, and possibly made by an elf and a dwarf, which is very interesting indeed." He then eyed the blade one more time. "Elvish blades usually glow a blue color when orcs are nearby, but this has some dwarf parts to it as well, a very taboo type blade. I wonder if it will remain the same or be different." The dwarf mumbled to himself as he then looked at the hobbit and shrugged, sighing.

"What's the blade's name?" the hobbit looked at it and moved it over his hands, looking at the silver corssguards that had engravings of swirls around it, and ran his hand against the elvish runes. "I think I'll name it, Ablal." The dwarf furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head at the name, scratching his dark black and long beard. "Binder, Ablal," he said to himself. "I am not too sure about the name. I see where you got it, from the two different cultures' designs, but it should be something more like..." the dwarf pondered, looking at the ground with an intense gaze as he thought on it. "like...Atas!" The dwarf hollered as he smiled at him. Bilbo looked down at the blade. "Hunter," he thought and soon enough he was nodding his head.

"Thank you," he told the dwarf who nodded, and smiled, telling him it was his pleasure before he was then pulled back into his business by a man, asking for a blade.

The hobbit ran his fingers over his blade now in the present, feeling the cold steel of Beria, smiling at the memory of the naming of his weapons.

The sword had served him very well over the days and years that came, and never once did it disappoint him. Though, the sword had always puzzled him. He did not lie to the dwarf when he told him where he had found it. A wandering man had once given this weapon to Evon when he was but a boy defending himself. It was now that he had passed it on to him since it had long outgrown his use of it. But Bilbo always wondered whose hands had carved such a strange piece.

And as for the knife, he had asked Evon about it, but the man did not reveal anything about its origins. He simply said that he had picked it up when he was traveling off near the Iron Hills for trade.

Bilbo never used the blade, he didn't need to, so he usually stuffed Atas in the back of his bags. He never learned how to handle the weapon anyway. It was always his sword that he relied on more than anything else.

He had never encountered orcs in the lands, though there were close calls, but what he mainly used it for was when a trade went bad, or a fight broke out. Although, there were times he wished he could kill orcs, times he thought that he should hunt them down. Such hate could only bring ruin though, and he knew it. He stilled his anger when it occurred and thought of everything he had, and everything he was given. Revenge was something that would bring nothing but trouble around him, and he had his fill of that.

Bilbo looked out over the place, slipping out of his mind, sighing. The night in the tavern was rapidly coming to a close as it began to die down, the noise coming to a stop as people filtered out. The hobbit took his feet off the table and sighed. He took hold of the bowl of soup. The smell of the it, making his belly grumble and rumble with hunger.

He moved over a couple of seats so that his back was facing everybody else's. And no one noticed, nor cared what he did. He pulled his hood farther over his head as he hid his face and took down his mask. Bilbo then licked his lips and began to dig into the now lukewarm soup.

Bilbo always had to be careful during these times. He had to eat and drink quick before anybody came to see him, and find out that he was not a dwarf. It was a frustrating process, but one he had to endure. His hood was always very big and large, so that he could hide his face easily and his curls from anyone's eyes, and of course his ears. He basically had to hide his whole body to come across as a dwarf, from his face, to his feet, but the only thing he didn't have to were his arms.

Though they weren't particularly hairy or anything of the sort, they were big and muscular, so much so that it helped his disguise even more. Rarely anyone questioned him or where he came from, even when they saw his feet, they were too squeezed into dwarf shoes and leather to really be looked at properly or thought on as abnormal.

He looked like a complete dwarf.

The hobbit then finally delved into the soup that had been neglected. As soon as the chicken flavored broth hit his tongue, he was rolling his eyes back in pure pleasure. He had not had a decent meal like this in a while. Bilbo had been on the road for long months, gathering things and taking jobs where he could, while his mentor was off to Mahal knew where. They had separated months back when his mentor had told him he had to go and find a friend. He had wanted to go too, but his tutor was stern with the concept.

"This is my mission Bilbo and mine alone." His mentor had said with his eyes unyielding to any other proposition. "I have to find this man on my own. It is for a good reason too. For it will take long months until I come back to Lake Town, and even Middle-Earth, if my travels take me that far." Bilbo had nodded, though reluctantly, as he agreed to let him go and to not follow him. Even when every bone in his body wanted to.

"Then will you at least promise me that you will come back or send me a bird every now and then so I know you're still alive?" The hobbit pleaded, and the man scoffed. "Of course I will. What kind of man would I be if I left you behind, and did not say a thing about it?" The hobbit shrugged, "A tardy and ill-mannered one I suppose."

Evon had chuckled. "Yes, yes, I suppose I would be." He had voiced in a very distant tone. The man then began to drift off, staring into the open air.

Something had been waning over his dear mentor for months now. He found him gazing off into the unknown, thinking about something that Bilbo had now erudite of. He always gave Bilbo a small smile after he had left to his thoughts, but he knew something was troubling the man, even if he did not admit it.

Bilbo had placed his hand on Evon's arm as he asked, "Are you sure you'd be alright out there?" Evon looked at the hobbit and nodded with a small smile on his face.

"Yes, yes I will!" He said in reassurance. Bilbo had nodded, sighing in a bit of relief as they said their goodbyes to each other and hugged. "I will tell you when and if I return." He retorted and took off to trek through the wilderness in search of some man that Bilbo knew nothing of. His heart ached in worry as he watched him leave, going away from the watery town of Esgaroth.

The hobbit finished his soup while he thought back on the last few words he had exchanged face to face with the man. He leaned back in his chair as he finished the meal, moving his scarf over his face as turned around, watching for any onlookers, but seeing none.

It seemed that the inn was just about closed. All of the rowdy customers had all but perished from sight as the violinist and players were through for the night, and the waiters and waitresses finished, sweeping and cleaning. But there was still no sign of his mentor. Just a few limp bodies lay sprawled on the floor or tables past out of the fever the night had brought.

But it seemed, he would have to turn in soon as his mentor was not showing up at any time of a favorable fashion.

So he got up, returning the bowl to a waitress that took it with ease. She smiled at the hobbit, "Turning in Master Dwarf?" She questioned and he nodded.

"Yes, it seems like my friend will not be coming this evening." He stated, going over to her. "But I would much appreciate it if you gave me a heads up if anyone asks for a dwarf named Distri." The woman nodded and smiled at the dwarf. "Alright, I'll keep a look out for you, Master Distri." He nodded in appreciation of her and turned to go up the stairs.

All the while though, eyes were watching, seeing him disappear up the steps. After a few moments of observation, then the man had left the inn, a smirk placed on his face.


	21. Chapter 21

**Year of 2941**

None of the dwarfs knew what was going to happen to the burglar as they worried about him. He was off in the woods, and, most likely, would stay within them for a while.

Even in their worry though, the dwarfs did nothing for him as they prepared for rest and left him to his own devices. No one even spoke of what had transpired between the wizard and the thief as they settled down in their beds that night. That was not due to their lack of compassion for the thief, though, but because of their lack of understanding of him. The mysterious creature, that wallowed in hatred and sorrow like none other, was alone in his suffering and burdens because the others knew not of his woes or secrets. Even when some of them turned to the woods in worry, they knew not what would ease him.

In result, they thought it would be better to let the burglar regain his composure and sort it out himself.

So the company had then laid to rest, some sending a prayer towards Mahal for the burglar, and others just feeling a twinge of sympathy for the strange dwarf. They all now slept, dreaming of many things as their bodies relaxed and fell into deep slumbers while they stared up at the night sky.

There was one among them though, who did not take to sleep as easily. He stared at the forest with intent as he thought back on the burglar, his mind pondering on things involving the elusive and quiet dwarf. He kept thinking about him unrelentingly as he tried to rest himself, but no such fortune had come upon him. He couldn't help but feel concern for the burglar as he replayed the scene between the wizard and the thief.

_"It was my dead mentor."_

That line haunted him as he remembered the animosity he had towards the elves.

_"I would rather dine with an orc."_

Thorin looked at the woods, his thoughts muddling together as he grew perturbed over the burglar.

The king also knew loss, and he understood, better than many others here, the burden of the death of someone, especially someone close to you. And maybe that was the reason why he could not fall into slumber, why he thought about the thief's words over and over, because he saw himself reflected in the creature, or at least that loss which was still so potent in them both.

Thorin narrowed his eyes towards those dark and omnious trees that swayed in the slight wind, wondering.

He looked around then, seeing the others all slept and no sign of the thief having come back appearing, disappointed. He turned back to the forest, and gazed upon it once more with heavy eyes and calculated thoughts. Thorin then started to move, getting up from his resting place as quiet as he could, and walked into the woods. He searched for the burglar, his raven hair gleaming under the moon's light as he wandered into the dark.

But it only took a few moments before he heard a voice, a sound of a song being hummed. Thorin looked towards the location of the sound, and raised an eyebrow in question as he walked towards the enchanting and familiar voice. The dwarf moved towards a tree, and peered behind it, stopping his feet. There he saw the thief, singing as he squatted on a rock, overlooking a cliff, his arms slung over his knees as he sang.

_"Calm your fears and hush your tears._

_Listen to my voice and hear me sing._

_Know the love wrapped in my words,_

_And the promise entwined._

_I'll be here to hold you when you say._

_I shall stay and guard you every day._

_My child don't you weep,_

_For you have all you need._

_Calm your fears and hush your tears._

_Never will I leave your side, my dear._

_Just hear my words and the promise of_ _worth__._

_Now go to sleep and forget the world."_

Thorin listened to the silky voice of the thief that faded away slowly as the lullaby ended and he could feel the sadness that rolled off of the thief's dimming voice. Whoever his mentor was, he was not just a mentor, he was family and he was close to the thief, closer than most probably ever got to someone like him.

The king then watched the burglar, and saw his head slump down when the song finally ended, looking at the green ground and away from the distant lands. The thief stayed there and Thorin wondered if he should make himself known now, but the choice was soon made for him as the burglar got up, walking away from the area.

Thorin then started to walk out, his mouth opening to speak as the burglar moved away, but then the thief stopped in his steps. Thorin halted, stopping his other movements as he cocked his head. The dwarf stayed in that posture for a while, unmoving, and the dwarf king stared at him, waiting for what the thief would do.

What the thief did next made Thorin cringe.

He fell; he fell to knees, a strange sound coming from him as he did this. His thighs folded in with his legs as he now looked up to the sky with slumped shoulders and a defeated sound coming from him.

Thorin looked away from the burglar, turning, not being able to bear looking at him in such a vulnerable moment. The dwarf now cursed himself like none other for coming to check on the thief. He should have never come here. It was none of his business what the thief was going through, no matter how much he wished to help.

He needed to leave, and forget he ever came or saw him in such a state now.

Though just as he was about to leave the thief in peace and solitude, he glanced back one more time. And as his eyes landed on the burglar, he found that he could not part from here just yet as the thief pulled his hood back. The king watched with curious eyes as the burglar revealed a curly head of honey colored hair on top of his head.

The dwarf furrowed his eyebrows, cocking his head as he saw his hair. It was a fair color and strangely seemed to gleam under the moonlight with an unearthly glow. It looked soft and rich to him, but strange as well. The king then heard his crying voice as he stared up at the stars and moon quiet sobs coming from him as the king wavered from his place. He stayed though as he saw the thief turn slightly towards him as his hands reached towards the back of his head. Thorin watched discreetly from the shadows, his eye observing as he saw the thief, letting the cloth, covering the bottom of his face, fall to the ground.

Thorin's features softened as he witnessed it.

The burglar was beautiful, breathtaking. His skin was a glamorous white, his lips a pouting and pink color, and his face as smooth as flower petals. And his eye seemed to hold more emotion and weight within it now than ever before as they glistened with tears like stars. Thorin, only saw part of his face, half to be exact, but he knew he was gorgeous, enchanting and one of the most ravishing beings he had ever had the pleasure to lay his eyes upon. And while under this full moon's glow, the thief looked to be an otherworldly being, more beautiful than even the many elves he had seen before, and if he could say, as beautiful as anything from Valinor.

But in the midst of his observations and doting descriptions, there were some things that caught his dazed eyes which he had not seen immediately.

The thief's ears, they were shaped like an elf's, and there was no beard to speak of upon his face.

Thorin narrowed his gaze as he studied the creature, curiosity and bemusement running through him as he observed the strange being. _He could not be an elf though_, he thought, _not even an elf child! _He was too wise and too trained to be one, and elves looked after their children with a ferocity, even children not of their own. It is unlikely that he was an elf, and yet he seemed to be one.

_What are you? _Thorin questioned as he moved a little in thought and observed him with narrowed eyes, but then a twig snapped, alerting the burglar to him. The king did not move as the sound was made, though he felt the need, and the thief too stayed in his place, not turning his head towards him, but back to his front.

A long moment of silence soon followed, neither of them moving or saying a word at that moment, but they both knew of each other's presence. The wind whistled in the breeze, gently as a reticence befell everything as they stayed there, and did nothing within those few minutes.

The silence was then broken by moving, shuffling feet as the thief got up and walked away. He picked up the cloth as he moved, and tied it around his face, disappearing into the darkness of the forest.

Thorin stayed quiet as he looked off into the woods where the thief had moved off to, and saw nothing in the black of the night as the moon went under a gray cloud, forsaking the world of its light.

The king then turned around and made his way back to camp, leaving the forest with a heavy heart of guilt and suspicion.

As he arrived at the camp, he searched around for the burglar, but the thief was not there as he thought he would not be. So he settled himself in bed, and lay down on the blankets as he looked up at the starry sky.

And for the first night, in a long time, he did not fall asleep thinking about Erobor. He did not fall asleep thinking of the music the dwarfs sang in his home, or of the many painful and joyful memories he had in that hall. Not even of the gold that sparkled in the firelight of the mountain.

Instead, he thought of the thief as he closed his eyes and rested to sleep with the image of him in his mind.


	22. Chapter 22

**Year of 2926**

Shadows played along the walls as the fire light illuminated it. They pranced around in the dark and now quiet inn. Outside the moon shone bright and coherently. Its eerie glow lulled those tired souls to sleep as they dreamed of faraway place to their cozy home. Many were tucked inside the soft beds in the warmth of their rooms. But one man stood at a door.

He had a hood on that covered his face from the dark. The man's age was unknown. His clothes were filthy, filled with grime and other things. His boots tracked mud anywhere he went and his clothes poured off horse hair, and grass.

It had been long since he had been in a place such as this. His search had taken him to faraway places. He was back now, though, and he had found what it was he had been looking for. And now the man stood at the door, his hand hovering over the wood, but he did not knock and he did not speak. He was a statue in thoughts of his own. The man contemplated on his next move, but he seemed to be stuck, like something was holding him back. Some emotion kept him at bay from opening the door and greeting the one that lay behind it.

So he stood there, in the dark, in the silence, in solitude. The winds outside hurled in the air in the form of a soft breeze. It rattled the bells that lay outside, and clanked the signs that hung in the air. The fire flickered and whispered here and there, casting dark shadows where it pleased. And the Inn stayed quiet, still, snoring costumes slept soundly through the night, and sleepless ones walked or sat in the same silence and in the same thoughts as the man.

In time he lowered his hand and stared at the wooden door wondering, pondering. Until finally, he left the place and instead of confronting what needed to be done, he stalked off into the dark. And the being that lay behind the doors, slept in a deep slumber of peace. It would soon be disturbed, though by the hurtful and indisputable truth.


	23. Chapter 23

**Year of 2941**

The following day they went to load their horses, and leave their campsite, but there was a problem with the horses. Half of them were gone. The company had gone on arguing about what happened to them, but it wasn't until Gandalf came along and told them that it was Mountain Trolls that they shut their mouths and only merely grumbled between each other.

Last night, all of them had forgotten about the horses, having the histrionics of last night's drama had distracted them from their duties, most notably Fili and KIli. And though they argued amongst the others, it was Thorin, who told them that they were to be among the others to ride with someone else on a horse.

Fili had wanted to argue, but he knew he had no right to. It was his and Kili's fault after all. So he took the responsibility, and he did it with pride and grace of a noble dwarf so much so that he would think his mother would have smiled upon him. That all was how it had started out, until he realized who he would be sharing a steed with.

"Thief," Thorin had called to the burglar as he arrived at their camp in the late hours of the morning. The small being had not turned to the king as he spoke and addressed him, to Fili's surprise and irritation, but he did listen to his uncle as he instructed him to partner with Fili.

At first, Fili thought that the thief would interject, would go against Thorin's words because he loved his solitude so. But that turned for the worst. The thief had then met the king's eye, saying coldly, "As you command," which puzzled Fili. The king thought little of it though as he walked away, but the thief remained there, staring at the back of the man with cool eyes. And Thorin left his nephew to the devices of the thief.

Fili had so wanted to change, to tell Thorin that he did not want to ride with the burglar, that he would go with anyone else but him. He could not do so, though, not just because of his pride, but because the thief did not give him the chance to.

"Come along, Prince," he had said as he walked towards his horse, getting on quickly, "place your things on and get behind me." Fili tried to run off and talk to Thorin then, but he was stuck with the burglar, no matter what. So with a sigh, he placed his things on the horse and got on, allowing the small being to rest in front of him and lead the pony.

It was then that they took off on their journey, resuming it.

Fili could not exactly resume the feeling though, not as he awkwardly sat behind the thief and worried that he might do something to set the being off. Plus, he wasn't comfortable at all with the burglar, mainly because he did not know him, and also because of what had gone on last night between the wizard and him.

The dwarf prince had felt bad for him, of course, but he couldn't do anything for him, mostly because he did not really know loss himself. He only knew of his mother's loss, and that in itself was bad enough. He had never really known his father, couldn't truly remember him that well.

So when he passed, it was his mother who grieved and shed the tears, not him nor his baby brother. They both were shielded from that, mostly. The only way loss had affected him was through his mother, who cried over it during those first few months of his death. He hated it when his mother cried like that, disliked it to the bone, because he couldn't do anything for her, couldn't ease her pain or her suffering. He could only watch in sadness and with a heavy, solemn heart.

Going to this strange dwarf would have done nothing but make trouble or cause embarrassment to himself, though his heart still felt heavy with guilt anyways. And all of those emotions, were enough to make this a very uncomfortable ride, for him.

"Prince," the thief said, causing Fili to come out of his inner thoughts, "do you mind if you take the reigns?" Fili looked down at the thief, who stared straight ahead. "Why?" he asked, curious.

"After last night, I didn't get much sleep." The burglar simply stated, leaving the rest of the details to be thought after by Fili, who could fill in the blanks himself, as the thief continued. "If it would be alright, I would like to rest now."

The dwarf smiled as he answered, "It's fine you may rest."

The thief sighed in content as he thanked him and let go of the reigns, giving them to the dwarf prince who took them gently. The burglar, then leaned back against the dwarf's chest, turning his head to lay it against the dwarf who cradled him in his arms. "Thank you," the thief mumbled once again as he seemed to slip into a swift slumber.

Now that Fili felt the burglar against his chest, he smiled, feeling good as the warm body laid against him, so small and yet so deadly. He looked at the others, watching as they argued in front of them.

"Get your foot off of me Bofur!" Balin yelled as he grew frustrated. His once calm face now horribly red and angered.

"Stop digging your foot into my pony, you'll scar him!" the dwarf, Kili, shouted to the young one, Ori, who exploded in flames. "Well, maybe if you scooted up, ya big lump, I wouldn't have so little space and be inches away from falling off!" His brother grumbled as he fought with Ori now.

Fili looked at the thief and smiled. _Seems it wasn't so bad after_ _all, _he thought as the journey continued.

/

* * *

><p>It had been a few hours since the burglar had fallen asleep and that they had left the camp, but the burglar did not look like he would be waking up soon. His head rested back against the prince's chest, resting peacefully there as he soundlessly slept.<p>

The dwarf prince hadn't realized how small the thief actually was, how much of a tiny little thing he truly seemed to be. He fits perfectly between his arms, even with his muscles, and Fili was able to place his chin on top of his head with no effort at all, not to mention how he would have been able to cover this being, almost twice over if he wished to. This burglar was actually very thin, to which the muscles hid and covered up, but now it was clear just how small his waist was, and his skin was littered with scars.

In this short amount of time, merely holding the dwarf, letting him rest, he had grown more pity for him than any other dwarf he had ever seen.

He was a twig, an ant compared to him, and he could easily crush him, if that was what he wanted, and yet the thief was still able to be so intimidating, seem larger than he actually was through attitude and behavior.

He guessed those were things you learned out on the roads though, to seem larger than you were to predators and other beings who tried to pick on the small.

Fili had been out traveling some, here and there, but he never really got into much trouble, and did not have scars like the thief did upon his arms. He had seen enough, to be an adventurer, and been to enough places, to be a traveler, but he was not a survivor, not really, not like this thief.

He usually always had money, weapons and people to help him along his journeys, he never went alone. The thief had been alone for Mahal-knew-how-many-years, and fended for himself, just trying to stay alive and get by as best he could, without, most likely, a soul in the world.

Just imagining it was having his heart swell and beat in pity and in the wonder of the burglar as he traced over the scars with his eyes, or could feel how well he had fit in front of him.

He lifted his gaze from those scars though, and kept his eyes on the road. He shouldn't be staring, pondering on things about him, and yet he couldn't help but become curious.

Fili watched as the Company had finally settled with each other, all noise of bickering and complaints ceased to the quiet of the world. And he looked around these woods, watching as they soon departed from them as he moved the horse steadily forward. They enter a plain, then, tall and short grass all around as they continued.

Thorin halted his movements, though, his fist in the air.

Fili looked past the others to look at what had made his uncle stop, but he saw nothing. He then turned to Kili who looked at him in question too. He looked back, eyebrows furrowed as he searched for the cause of alarm, or the cause to stop. But soon enough, they saw what they feared would happen in their adventure.

An Orc atop a Warg came into the view of the dwarfs.

Fili ground his teeth as he saw the creature there, a smirk placed upon its lips as it looked at them.

The dwarf prince then hurriedly awoke the small creature that looked around, disoriented, until his eyes were set on the Orc.

The thief then leaned back a little, into the dwarf prince, who looked down worried at the creature as he spared another glance to Kili. His attention was quickly brought back to the orc, who stared them down, when three or four more orcs appeared at his sides with riderless wargs.

Their unnatural fur gleamed in the sunlight as they sniffed the air, some glared at them while others growled, and the warg's yellow teeth showed as they snarled at the company.

Fili glared, getting out his sword for the ready as the other orcs too prepared for battle. But then he felt the thief moving in front of him, no longer leaned back into him. He then watched as the burglar lowered his upper body, almost lying on the horse as he leaned forward.

Fili gazed down curiously at the burglar, who looked like he was stalking prey on open fields, like he were a warg himself. But the dwarf's attention could only be spared for so long before the first orc pointed to the group, saying something in his dark language.

"Move!" Thorin shouted as he got out his sword with their ponies now galloping off away from the orcs that ran down the hill. The burglar grabbed the reigns from Fili, yelling, "Hold on!" Fili did, and before they knew it, the burglar was galloping fast, following behind Kili.

But it wasn't long before he passed him and then passed Gloin, Oin, Balin and even Dwalin, until he was right next to Thorin. The dwarf prince was shocked at the sudden start, but he held on to the burglar's thin waist with one hand, his sword in the other.

The thief then soon, even passed Thorin as well, now right at the front of the group, leading them. Thorin yelled something behind them, but it was not loud enough to hear over the galloping sounds as they tried to outrun the orcs who were tailing them.

"Dwalin, behind you!" the burglar roared against the winds that hurled at them as their pony lead them all. Fili looked back, against the wind's force, to see Dwalin with his ax, and an orc behind him. Dwalin wouldn't have noticed until it was too late had it not been for the burglar.

_How did he know?_ That was a question for a different time though.

The orc was right on Dwalin's tail and the dwarf had little time to react. So he swung his ax across the space that divided him from the Orc, and was able to knock him off of his warg. But the animal was still chasing them now and trying to bite Dwalin's horse

The sturdy warrior growled as he then turned his pony away from the Warg to avoid a bite.

He then swung his ax right on the Warg's head smashing it in, although he was unable to reclaim the ax again as it was lodged right into the Warg's skull.

Filli turned back just as the burglar, then yelled, "Thorin, Kili, at your sides!" And sure enough, a Warg raced towards Thorin's side and then towards Kili's and Fili turned back around, clutching on to the burglar as he looked at the two. Ori held the reigns, leading the horse, as his brother shot an arrow at the Orc and then an arrow at the Warg, who was a challenge to get a direct hit. But after the third arrow, he killed it, shooting the wooded metal between the animal's eyes.

Thorin's Orc though, as Fili saw, was not so easily killed.

His uncle lifted his sword in the air, about to strike the Warg, but another sword met his, and the orc, riding atop the creature, slid to the side, right up against Thorin. They battled it out, then their swords, creating friction as metal banged against metal, and strengths were tested, but Thorin was strong. And Fili knew he would not be outdone by this orc.

Thorin swung his sword across the orc and was able to cut through to his spine a little, causing instant death. The warg, unfortunately, was another story though. It bounced and pounced, trying to get a bit out of the dwarven king, or his steed as his uncle tried to fight off the foul beast.

But it wasn't until Kili was able to shoot him that the warg stopped its assault on the king. Thorin looked over at his nephew, as he was able to gain more control of his horse, and nodded, then his brother did the same. Fili breathed a sigh of relief then as he watched his brother steady his bow, taking the reins from Ori and putting his bow to the side, but still in hand.

The dwarf prince then turned around, his eyes now facing the front as he looked at the thief with amazement and gratitude.

"Fili!" the burglar, then said, calling his partner's name. The dwarf listened intently to the thief as he spoke. "I need you to be ready, at our front." The dwarf prince looked up at the burglar's words. Saw that there was one orc coming right towards them.

"I'm going to go to the side, I need you to swing your sword as hard as you can." The burglar instructed Fili. "I'll go to our left side at the last second. I need you to slice him with all your might, Fili." The dwarf nodded, understanding his words as he prepared himself, tightening his grip on his sword.

They only had seconds before the orc was on them while they inched closer and closer to the orc who held a smile on his face and his sword in his hand.

"What are you doing?! Turn!" Shouted Thorin behind them as the other dwarfs moved away, but they stayed true to their course, heading straight on. They were a couple of feet away before the Burglar turned at the last second. "Now!" He screamed, and the burglar's head was low as the dwarf swung his sword across the orc, cutting him with all his might as a dwarf could. The Fili watched as the orc's upper body fell and his bottom half followed along. But the animal he had been riding was still there, running towards the others, bloodthirsty.

"Kili, the Warg!" The burglar, then shouted, but Kili had his bow already positioned and shot the Warg right in the eye. Fili sighed a little and he nodded towards his brother in a thank you gesture. His brother returned the gesture to him as he settled back in place, Fili's weapon bleeding with black orc blood.

"We have to find a way out, more are coming." The burglar told the Fili silently as the dwarf prince clung back to him. But before the dwarf could respond, Gandalf came next to the pair then on his larger horse. "Follow me, I know a path!" he explained as the burglar nodded and they followed the wizard.

The old man led them away and it was only a few minutes before they were at their destination. Gandalf then quickly stopped his horse and dismounted, ushering the dwarfs and burglar to a rock. They stopped as the wizard had, but gave him funny looks as their breaths were ragged, and they were left confused.

"Come now!" He said as he looked past them.

Fili took the hint and looked back to see more orcs and wargs coming, true to the burglar's words. The dwarfs then hurriedly jumped off their horses, leaving them and their belongings to run away. Fili did not run towards the wizard right away as he went off, killing the orcs who came by and assisting his brother as they got the others to safety.

Fii glanced though, unsure of the safety that Gandalf had led them to. But then he saw one by one as they found a secret passage that was so cleverly hidden. He saw as they dropped down into the passage all the while he defended his brother, and uncle, being sure to get the others to safety.

It was only until himself, Kili and Thorin were the only ones behind, having ushered others in and protected them, that they decided to move towards safety. Fili watched, as he killed a warg, Kili let off a few arrows as he went towards his uncle who counted them in, waiting for only his nephews who as one came running towards him. And Kili dropped down, unceremoniously as he watched his uncle look to him.

He then began to move towards him uncle, but a sound made him stop as he looked back to see the thief, his sword out, swinging at the orcs who closed in on him, their arrow firing, missing him by inches.

"Burglar!" He screamed to the thief, about to head over to him, though he stopped when he saw the thief's eyes rest on his. He urged him on with his hands. But then panic filled the burglar's eyes. Fili did not know why, but he stood there, waiting as his limbs bounced for him to come.

The burglar, then ran over to Fili, his sword to the side as he charged towards him. The dwarf prince was going to move for him, but then the burglar knocked him down to the ground just within a second. Fili gasped as he felt the hardness of the ground and the weight of the burglar, his eyes furrowing, until a second later, a sound come through the air.

He then looked up to see a black arrow whiz over him.

"Argh!" The burglar, then screamed as Fili watched the arrow landed right between their legs, missing the burglar's cloak, and landing near the burglar's leg, probably scrapped in the inside of his thigh. Fili then quickly looked back to see an orc about to shoot at them again, and Fili looked on in horror.

Then, in the air, another whizzing sound was heard, something then struck the orc as it fell from atop the rock before it could shoot either of them. And as they looked at the now dead orc they saw an arrow was lodged into his heart with an expert aim.

Fili quickly looked back at the thief and they bother shared a silent look, urgency in either of their eyes as they scrambled to their feet. The dwarf prince and The thief acted quickly as they kicked his feet off the ground, running with each other as they went towards his uncle's side who had a look of relief on his face.

They reached Thorin in no time and quickly Fili went down the hole, without thinking about the thief's injury, but he regretted not keeping that in thought as the burglar came down and then let out a groan of dismay and pain, "Argh!" the thief landed on his side as he tumbled down, in front of the other dwarfs, and his uncle dropped into the passage as well. Fili went towards the thief, worried.

"Are you alright?" The dwarf prince asked, knowing he probably was not, but finding nothing else to say.

The burglar looked at him with a determined gaze as he nodded, standing up on his legs, clenching his fists as he answered, "Yes, I'm fine," through clenched teeth.

Fili nodded his head. His eyebrows still scrunched together with uncertainty. But then, as he glanced down, he noticed the bleeding of his thigh, which the burglar quickly covered up.

"Well get your wounds bandaged," his uncle then said, making Fili turn to his uncle who placed a hand on his shoulder, signaling him or move back, to which he did. He then looked over to Oin to see he was stepping forward with the small amount of bandages he had stored away on his person.

But then burglar shook his head, stopping Oin from coming forward. "I'm fine," he said with an unwavering look in his eyes. Fili furrowed his brow once more as he stood beside his brother, and watched the king and the thief stare at each other in stubbornness. But before the his uncle could convince him to take care of his wound, the Wizard interrupted.

"Come, follow the path," Gandalf said, interrupting the conversation with an abruptness that would be considered rude anywhere else, or at least Fili thought. He then turned back to the thief, to see an indifferent look in his eyes on more. His uncle then sighed as he said, "We'll get your wound uninfected at least." The king then moved over to Gandalf and the rest of the dwarfs followed suit, but Fili shot worried glances to the burglar as the thief leaned on the leg that was not hurt.

Fili exchanged glances of concern with Kili as they looked back at the burglar, but followed the wizard.


	24. Chapter 24

**Year of 2926**

During the night, over stretches of land, dark things lay awake, restless against the pale moon's glow. These beings trampled across the lands as they rode on their wargs at a fast pace, moving around and past logs and trees as a shiver ran through the land at their passing. They stalked and trotted over the earth in the depths of the ill-woods as creatures small and large scurried away in fear, wanting no part in their evil deeds.

Their wargs breathed hard as they raced off, avoiding the elves place as they maneuvered within Mirkwood to their destination, with racing hearts and snarling smiles as they barked to one another in their language.

Soon, they arrived to a ominous and dreadful place, a place that is sick and drenched with evil as it is poured off its scattered and torn sides. Many tales spread of this place, whispers of dark tellings and entities that dwell within it.

Some say a ghost has come to haunt the place that was so long ago tainted and stained. Others think of it as more than a ghost, but a powerful being wrought upon the land, willing to raise the dead with it's mind. And the very few, that of an even darker entity in this place, one that should not be spoken of, but should always be feared.

But, despite what you believe dwells in these dark chambers, it was still a place engulfed with evil.

Dol Guldur is where these creatures came to, infesting the place as they moved across its stone cold bridge, entering the place which crawled with evil. They passed by other wargs and orcs who crowded about, making noise and raging on as they drank and fought amongst each other as they filled the night hours.

Those other orcs that just arrived, scurried up the steps though, fearing their destination as they grew closer to a certain chamber in a high up place within the towers of Dol Guldur. When they made it to a certain room, where only a pathway and the floor was, with barely any walls standing as the pale moon gleamed down on it, they then halted their steps as they watched their leader amongst the furs at his side with his warg, eyes closed.

As they stopped before him though, his cool demeanor soon turned as he opened his eyes, lifting his head from his warg's fur as he looked to his followers. The other orcs dismounted their wargs, and traveled in front of their master. They bowed to him in respect, eying him as he did the same with them. He then began to stand from his warg's side as he observed them.

"Why have you come?" He asked them, as he looked to the other orc that was still mounted on its warg. The orcs looked back at that particular one, holding something in his arms as he began to dismount. He then walked in front of Azog and settled it on it's knees in front of him.

"This one," an Orc said, pulling off the black bag from his head, "said he spotted a changeling." The pale orc looked from his minions to the old man on his knees in question as the man began to watch them all with wary eyes.

"Who?" The white skinned beast asked as his gaze turned to the man.

"A boy," an orc spoke up, though in fear, "or so he said when we picked him up by Isengard." The pale orc cocked his head as he looked at the man now, piqued.

"I saw a dwarf," the man suddenly admitted as he warily eyed the orcs.

Azog told him to continue and the old man smiled as he said, "but he was not a dwarf or elf and definitely not of my ilk." The orc raised his eyebrow as he looked at the man with a cool gaze, watching as he fidgeted under his stare.

The old man then continued. "He had enormous shoes and a mask over his face." He described as he looked towards him and down again, trying not to make eye contact as his white hair waved slightly in the air. His winkled and scarred skin, showing off a glow from the pale moon's light.

"At first," he started up again with wavering eyes, "I thought he was just a dwarf." The man then shook his head as he finally met the orc's own gaze. "But then I remembered the creatures that had crossed over the land a while back." The warrior narrowed his eyes at the old man as he smiled at him, pointing a finger up like a fool.

"I also knew you had an eye out for changelings and with a pretty price attached." He confessed to the orc as he seemed to smile at him once again, causing the beast to growl behind him. The man the nlooked down in fear.

Azog raised an eyebrow as he went towards his warg, soothing her with a few words in his language as he felt her displeasure. He then turned back, moving towards the man as he watched him shiver in the midnight air.

The orc then crouched down before him, hearing his warg's disapproval through his growl as he leaned towards the man, watching as the being before him fidgeted and changed emotions. He placed a hand on the old man's shoulder, his bad hand, and moved it around there, threatening the man. "Where are they?" he questioned and the creature took the threat as his yes darted around, thinking.

"He is still there in Rohan, Erodas, but I suspect he will be traveling with someone soon. He was waiting." Azog let go of the man as he heard his warg growl once again. "You seem to displease my warg." He acknowledged as he looked back at her, smiling at the creature.

"She doesn't take well with many strangers, no less men, but it seems you ruffled her fur the wrong way, friend." He confessed as he looked back at him, his bad hand moving towards the man, who backed away in fear. "And there are few who she would act so aggressively towards, do you know that?" he questioned as he chuckled once again, hearing that growl.

The man shook his head as he turned his head down, his lip quivering slightly as he heard the growling of Azog's animal. "If you're a person who enjoys certain things, she'd feel threatened," he told as he glanced over the man, "and the second one is if you are a liar." He then moved his bad hand up under his chin, making him look towards him as he leaned forward.

"I know men. I've seen the lot of you, the brave, the cowardly, and the stupid. But you, my friend, are of a different nature, the kind of person my warg loves to chew up and spit out as you deserve." He told as he looked him in the eyes, hard. "So tell me, old man, what have you lied about?" the being then trembled underneath his gaze as he closed his eyes. "I have told you all the truth, honest." He stated as he closed his eyes in fear.

The orc grinned as he spoke again. "There must be something you left out, other wise my warg would have been fine with seeing you squirm beneath my gaze." The orc then brought the man's face closer, almost cutting him as he whispered. "If I do not get that answer soon, I will be forced to do other things to you." He threatened as he stepped back to look into the man's eyes and see one thing in there, fear.

"I-I," the man began to stutter as he glanced back up to Azog to the ground repeatedly as he said, "I think it is the one...you have been searching for..." Azog narrowed his gaze as he raised an eyebrow, asking, "What do you speak of?"

The man swallowed as his purple lips shivered. "I speak of a certain boy that once escaped your grasp."

The orc smirked as he asked, "And how do you know anything about that?"

The man frowned as he said, "I know it from the old days, when I lived in the Iron Hills, and heard of the hobbit's struggling, and of course your victory. I also once saw a few orcs take a changeling, take her for questioning, a former servant of Belladonna's, who divulged more than what you had intended, including Belladonna's secret." He acknowledged as he watched the orc look at him with untrusting and suspicious eyes.

The orc then looked back to his warg as he thought on the man's words, finding them true to his companion, who merely laid her head down amongst the array of furs. Azog arose from his spot as he turned back to the man, sighing as he passed by him and moved away.

The leader turned back at his disciples, who bowed their heads slightly in respect. Azog pointed to one of them. "You," he spoke to a ragged orc, with pale skin, "I want you to dispose of this man." He said as he watched the old one cower, shivering as he pleaded with them to not kill him, that he deserved money for giving him this information.

The pale orc ignored his pleading as he walked along, clenching his fists as he stopped at the edge of a cliff side, looking over the land as he fumed, rage boiling within him as he found out this new information. He growled once again, but then a small comforting hum was heard to his side as his warg came over to him, rubbing her head against his hand, reassuring him.

The orc calmed as he heard the screams from the old man, breathing out as they slowly died. His fingers ran through his warg's fur once the screames ceased all together, and he found peace within himself at the moment.

An orc then came to his side, filtering blood in the air near him as he breathed in once again. "What do you want to do, sire?" The Orc questioned.

Azog turned to him slightly as he observed the forest, the leaves on the ground and hollow trees that withered away at an unnatural rate. "We will go after the boy," he stated as he glared at the forest, clenching his fist away from the warg's fur as he felt the anger slowly seethe within him.

"And then we'll finally take care of the boy."


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note:  
><strong>It is Chapter 25! So I was thinking that I would actually have a small thing where I do something for you guys! What do you think? It will happen every 25 chapters, and since this story looks like it is going to go on for a long time, around 100, I wanted to do something extra for you. You decide. Comment and tell me if you want me to do something special! If there are no thoughts on what you want, then I will just post an extra chapter here or start my other story, The Assasin, in the series. I already have some of the chapters done, so I could just post one now.

If you want something else, tell me!

**Year of 2941**

The company of dwarfs came out of the cave, grumbling to themselves as they walked along. But they all promptly stopped as they saw what lay before them. "Rivendell," a dwarf breathed out as they saw it in the sun's late light.

The dwarfs looked over it with an eye of hate, but some others with an eye of appreciation, even adoration as they saw the building that lay ahead, the beautiful glamoring and glimmering structures that they witnessed. Thorin, though, was not pleased at all as he looked upon this place he had wanted to avoid be all means.

He turned towards the wizard with a scowl on his face as he eyed him and said, "Rivendell, this was not our agreement, Gandalf." The wizard raised an eyebrow at him as he began to speak, "And what would you have us do? Go back out there where the orcs are, chasing us down, and leave this place when we could rest, get answers, and eat here?" Thorin turned his head down, grumbling as he eyed the elf's home with disdain. "They will hinder our quest, Gandalf, you know this." He said as he turned back towards him, but the old man smiled. "Of course they will, but that doesn't mean we will let them." He stated as he smiled and began to walk down towards the structures, the other dwarfs following as Thorin began to walk with the wizard, though with an agitated feeling growing inside him as he looked over the place.

They went down a bridge, observing with keen eyes as they did, that led to the center of a circular area, with two elf guards standing by the stairs at the other end of it in silver armor. And Thorin regarded them with caution as well as Dwalin who eyed them warily. But besides that there was no hostility, as of yet, or so Thorin thought as he looked around this place, examining the architecture.

He looked over his company, seeing all was right with them. And all seemed well, even as an elf with long dark brown hair came flowing down the steps, smiling as Gandalf went to greet him.  
>"Lindir," he called, smiling.<p>

The elf bowed his head slightly. "Mithrandir," the elf said with jubilation as he walked down the stairs. The elf's eyes gleaming with a deep brown. Thorin turned away from them, speaking to Dwalin about as they watched this new environment in front of them, and the wizard and elf began to speak to each other in a bit of a hushed tone.

"What do you think?" he asked Dwalin, who scoffed as he observed this place. "I think that we should leave now." Thorin smirked at his friend as he watched the elf raise an eyebrow towards the the wizard in question. "I know how you feel, brother." They both chuckled.

Just then Thorin heard the sounds of trumpets and the stampeding hoofs of horses against the stones as he turned around to see the elves coming down. The dwarf king gripped his weapon as he watched them descend upon them. He knew he shouldn't not have come to this place.

"Ah, Eldrond," the wizard said as he turned towards the horses and elves. Thorin shouted an order to the others, telling them to fold in, and be ready as the elves came down and then began to circle them. Thorin glared up at the elves, as they continued to encircle them, all with calm faces.

Soon enough they stopped though, and one elf in particular then spoke to the wizard.

"Aldo, Gandalf," the leader, Thorin assumed, called, smiling at him, "I did not expect you or your friends." He confessed as moved over to Gandalf.

The wizard shrugged. "Well, as you know, we needed some shelter." The elf then nodded as he smiled back at the wizard. "Aye," he said and looked towards them.

Thorin lowered his weapon as he saw no threat, though his eyes still watched the two as they turned and focused on them. The elf looked like he was about to speak then, just before a familiar voice growled as it said, "Let me go!"

Thorin turned to see three elves dragging a miffed and kicking body that Thorin recognized as the thief. The dwarf growled as he looked at the elf. "What is this?!" he yelled as he watched the thief being dragged in front of the elf lord, who looked over him, with an expression that Thorin rarely saw on the elegant and calculated beings: hatred. He was stumped by this look as he saw the burglar being dragged off and the tension in his bones begin to tighten as he felt himself moving his hand towards his sword.

"Tog hè sí." The elf lord said as he watched them bring him towards his direction, and the elf glanced back at the wizard with a look of disdain. Thorin then saw as the elf drew nearer towards the burglar until he towered over him. The thief had to strain himself to look up at him as the other elves pulled his head to look up at their lord. Eldrond raised his lip with disgust as he spat out, "Man cerig sí?" the thief did not answer though as he looked up at the elf.

"Mín gwerianneg!" He yelled as he stared down at him, but the thief stayed silent while the others watched in surprise and worry. The elf then shouted out, as he reached out towards him, "Le alnathlam hí!" A silver light then appeared across his face, and then underneath the elf's throat as his hand almost went towards him.

The elf stopped his heated words as he looked over to see Thorin had placed a sword at his throat. "Don't talk to our burglar that way, elf." The king told him as he stood beside Eldrond. The Guards stepped forward, about to intervene, but Eldrond held his hand up, and they yielded.

Thorin smirked bitterly as he said, "Now tell them to release _Our_ burglar." He expressed , putting emphasize on Our. Eldrond growled in frustration, but relented as he nodded towards the guards who let the thief go.

The burglar then went behind Thorin, who glanced back at him and received a nod of appreciation. He nodded back and turned to the elf, slowly taking the blade away from his throat as he eyed him. Thorin was about to step away then, to back up with his other companions, when the elf questioned, "Do you know who your companion is there?" Thorin raised an eyebrow as he looked from him to the burglar, whose head was lowered a bit. The elf, looked at the burglar with cool eyes as he said, "Gwath?"

Thorin groaned as he saw the thief look up at him with an eye of hate. "Please," the dwarf said, "speak in a language we all know, elf."

The elf frowned. "You don't know who he is, do you?" he asked, but said it as if it was a fact. The dwarf looked back at the burglar to find those green embers looking away from him. He grew confused at this, and wondered what he was hiding, but unlike before, he would not pry.

He turned to the elf with icy blue eyes. "I know all I need to know." The elf looked at the burglar for a moment, his head hanging a little low. "So you don't know," he said, a sad look was given towards the dwarf king. The elf's mouth then opened to speak again.

"Daur," a voice spoke, but the elf did not say this though, the thief did. Thorin turned towards the burglar as the small one stepped towards the elf lord. "Daur sen," he seemed to plead to the elf as Thorin furrowed his brow in confusion. The elf's eyebrows raised with a hard look on his face. He turned his eyes to Thorin then, ignoring the burglar it seemed as he asked, "Do you want to know what your burglar's name is?" the dwarf kept his gaze as he looked between the two.

"Boedh, Eldrond?" he seemed to question something to the elf that only ignored him as he looked at Thorin, and sighed, as he said, "He is The Shade in the Night, The Shadow in the Light."

Realization dawned on him as he looked at the burglar with eyes wide. The other dwarfs stirred as well as they glanced over at the thief, with this new knowledge.

"You are the one who robbed our kin in the Iron Hills," a dwarf, Bofur, spoke up as Thorin became very irked at this newly founded knowledge, his anger steadily growing as he stared at the burglar. "You're the one who stole from Rohan," another spoke, "You stole from the steward of Gondor himself!" Oin bellowed out. Thorin glared at the burglar as he wore a stoic face.

They were traveling with the most wanted criminal in all of Middle-Earth.

Tales had been spread all across the land of a burglar with an expertise of an unseen kind that robbed all and anything without ever being seen or caught. There were rumors and tales that he was a shadow or shade that would steal from anyone with anything to steal on him, and it made many cower in fear of just the name. Some even say that he killed those who caught his eyes or even saw a glimpse of him, and that was the true reason why nobody saw him.

Thorin's face held a frown as he had the look of ill enlightenment fall upon his expression. "Is what he says true?"

The thief looked at him, and nodded his head. "It is,"

Thorin's gaze had a scowl on it as he stepped towards the burglar, anger in his every movement, disdain in every sound of his shoe hitting the ground. Scorn filled his face. "Then I guess you won't need this anymore." The dwarven king said and went to the burglar, grabbing the mask on his face. But within seconds the thief reacted and grabbed his arm, and like Dori he held it there, except this time he spun around, twisting Thorin's arm behind his back. The king winced at the pain the movement caused as he felt the thief then take a knife from his belt, and place it on his throat. "Don't ever think you can take my mask off, dwarf." The thief spat with venom as he held Thorin's arm.

Thorin growled. "Have you been waiting to do this for a while, burglar?" the creature that the king spoke to stayed silent as he hammered him with these words, feeling all that anger boil up inside him. "Have you been waiting for the right moment to cut my throat and grab the key?" The burglar growled as his grip tightened.

"There is something you should know, dwarf," he spoke in a harsh tone, "I do not care for the gold in your house; I do not care for the Arkenstone of your people. I came with you for a different reason, a reason I was obviously foolish to follow." The dwarf scoffed as he then dropped his sword, distracting the burglar for a moment's time as he was able to yank his arm out of the burglar's hold and grab his knife from him in a swift movement that caught the thief off guard.

The burglar groaned as he looked at the dwarf. "What did you come for then, thief?" he questioned, mockingly as he moved towards him, the knife now at the burglar's throat, gleaming in the fading light of the sun against the thief's mask and part of his face.

"Well, Shade," the burglar glared at him and the dwarf king could fully see the color of his emerald eyes as they burned with ire. He stared into those eyes, waiting for him to answer as he thought back to the night before when he saw that face, and he had to wonder if all of that was a lie as well. He wondered if everything was a lie just to steal what was his, to steal the Arkenstone.

He raised his lip in disgust as he waited.

Silence fell on the bystanders as they all awaited Shade's answer. The wind whistled past them as the dwarf stared at him, his raven hair moving in the coming wind. Leaves rustled in the breeze and waters splashed as the silence stayed. Gazes glanced in anticipation as hands were tightened on the hilt of swords. The silence lingered between them like an awaiting plague.

"Does it matter?" he finally answered as he narrowed his gaze towards the dwarf, with the knife still settled against his throat. "It is nothing now anyways." He stated as he backed away from the king then who stared back at the thief as the blade was left behind in the air, away from anything.

The dwarf king looked at Shade in suspicion and lowered the knife as he then put it back on his person, his eyes still steadily on the retreating burglar. Thorin could then hear the other dwarfs sighing as the two stood a small distance apart, but a part nonetheless, and with weapons down as they looked at each other.

Thorin then felt Dwalin give him his sword, and he took it, his eyes never leaving Shade's.

The thief turned around then, walking towards the steps, while everyone watched him go, but as he approached the stairs, the guards blocked him from continuing. "Le alnathlam hí, Shade." The elf stated as he looked at the small creature.

Shade sighed as he looked back at Eldrond, an earnest expression in his eyes. "Eldrond," he started in a gentle and exasperated voice, "Naitham hí sui vellyn?" the elven king seemed to raise an eyebrow, but as he looked at the burglar once again he nodded.

"Ni lefnar," he began as he started to walk, Gandalf following behind him, "Le nathlam," he then paused in his steps and in his speech as he stared at the burglar's back. "Nesta, " he commented, "Îdh," he then paused again, "Abwannag." The thief went up the steps, nodding as he left the group.

Thorin then watched the burglar limp off to the distant structures. His heart slightly aching as he was reminded of what the burglar had done to help them, but that washed away as he remembered the betrayal. And all became silent.

**Translations:  
><strong>Aldo: Welcome  
>Tog hè sí: Bring him here<br>Mín gwerianneg: You betrayed us  
>Le alnathlam hí: You are not welcome here<br>Gwath: Shadow, Shade  
>Daur: Stop<br>Daur sen: Stop this  
>Boedh: Must you?<br>Le alnathlam hí, Shade: You are not welcome here, Shade  
>Naitham hí sui vellyn?: May we be as friends now?<br>Ni lefnar: For the week  
>Le nathlam hí: You are welcome<br>Nesta: Heal  
>Îdh: Rest<br>Abwannag: Leave after

If I got something wrong, tell me. I used a couple of different sites so it may be really bad! And tell me what you thought of the chapter. I felt like something was missing, but i wasn't sure what it was. If you guys liked it, then tell me to stop worrying!


End file.
